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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 










GREAT WEST QUARTERLY, No. 1, JANUARY, 1894. 

2.00 A YEA R •••• •_••••• - ••••••• 50c. A NUMB E R . 

T ZEE HU 

THRONE. 


& 



JBDT EVERETT W. FISH, IMI. ID. 



ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA. 













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. 

* 






. 





































































































































































































































































































































THE GREAT WEJST QUARTERLY— HO- 1. 


THE 


Power Pehind ^Jhe Tyrone. 


A Story ot 


The Modern 


Maelstrom. 




BY EVERETT W. FISH, M. D. 

Author of “The Egyptian Pyramids,” “A Compend of 
Chemical Analysis,” etc., etc., and Editor 
of “The Great West.” 


o 














COPYRIGHTED BY EVERETT W. FISH. 

1893. 


I 


t • 




All Rights Reserved. 











A WORD TO THE READER. 


This volume is divided into three parts, as will be 
seen by the contents. The reader who cares for histori- 
cal statements will, perhaps, do well to read the three 
parts in the order given. 

But those who wish merely to get the story and its 
teaching may turn at once to the 31st page. 

However, we wish that even the reader who cares 
only for the fiction, would turn to the last pages, and 
read the terrible assault upon the New York banks, by 
Senator Yoorheis before they read the story. 

In order that the reader may be more willing to be- 
lieve the lesson taught herein, we quote the following 
extraordinary denunciation from the pen of Thomas 
Jefferson : 

“I believe that banking institutions are more dan- 
gerous to our liberties than standing armies. Already 
they have raised up a money aristocracy that has set 
the government at defiance. The issuing power should 
be taken from the banks and restored to the government 
and the people, to whom it properly belongs.” 

After reading this from Jefferson, and thephilippic of 
Senator Yoorheis — both men of vast experience in state- 
craft, you are prepared to believe the revelation of Israel 
Hayman, in the following pages. 




CHAP. PAGE. 

The Facts in the Case 9 


1— The Lily and the Lump 31 

2— The Clod and the Millionaire 38 

3— It is Wisdom to Know Our Ignorance 44 

4— She Had Her Dreamland Picture ~ 53 

5— Transcontinental 57 

6— Hotter than Furnace Fire 69 

7 — “Come on if you Dare!” 73 

8— Which Neither Sun nor Star Revealed 80 

9— “It is Policy, not Honor.”. ...90 

10 — The Agent of Hebrew Dominion 95 

11— The Squaring of the Circle 100 

12— The Blood Royal of David 109 

13— Two Proposals in One Evening 120 

14— Mr. Bearman is Swallowed Up 129 

15 — The Dead Cannot Think 137 

16— The “ Stealthy Search for Life.” 144 

17 — “I am the Gentile.” 149 

18— “789— 351.” 158 

19— Esterella Godiva Roberts 165 

20— The Sensational Fizzle. 170 

21— Three Millions 177 

22— “1,685-1,693-2,321.” 182 

23— Two Millions in Her Girdle.. 184 

24— “Margins !” 192 

25— “And was Seen No More of Earth.” 205 

26— The Evangel of Grace 212 

27 — The Council Chamber 218 

28 — The Vow Before the Cook 227 

29— The Sewer and the Seine 230 

Voorheis on the Bankers 240 


The Facts in the Case. 


4 

Preliminary to the Story, for those who wish 
a Substantial Basis for the Startling 
Statements Made. 

The statement that the human race has been engag- 
ed in successive struggles to lift itself up on to higher 
planes of activity is substantially true. During ages 
these struggles have been based upon resistance to force- 
ful conquest. 

But however much the liberties of the race were en- 
dangered by forceful conquest, we believe that there is 
no clearly defined instance where a liberty-loving nation 
has been conquered to slavery by force of arms. This is 
an extraordinary statement, and should challenge investi- 
gation. It is said that there have been one hundred and 
fifty-five attempts at self-government on the globe, dat- 
ing from the old Iberic migrations through Attica, past 
Spartavento and Messina to the Pillars of Hercules — to 
the Basque Provinces, and those Ilfian excursions to 
Ir-lan — and followed up with the Grrusja settlement of 
Sclavonic forests, the successive overflows of population 
from beyond the Ural range and the Black sea— and the 
Varangian and Frisian settlements in Northwestern 
Europe. 

All these one hundred and fifty-five attempts at self- 
government have failed — or all save one or two subsisting 
republics. A real republic does not exist. 

And yet, it is nearly an exact statement to say that 

ix 


10 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


no republic was ever overthrown where the tribes weie 
fighting for their homes. The doubt, or shadow, cast 
upon the statement is the crushing out of the elective 
principalities of northern Europe by Caesarian invasion, 
after the most desperate, and bloody, and skillful, and 
continuous defense by the hardy electors. But in no 
case was one of those Belgic, Frisian, or Gothic tribes re- 
duced without the intervention of the “Treason of Gold.” 

During all those centuries there was no known devel- 
opment of a true commercial instinct. There was little 
money. It was of a multifarious nature. There was 
trade. There was commerce. But it was the devel- 
opment of individual or tribal purpose (or welfare) 
through the agencies of the crude nature of barter. 
There is every reason to suppose that the old Danite 
Semites, in navigating the Atlantic coast to Tuatha de 
Danaan — and to Tarshish — and to the Gsellic coast, not 
only erected Taurian landmarks, but used money of com- 
mercial value. 

Nevertheless, a commercial “sense” did not exist in 
the world. It was all the chance of daring, enterprise 
—or the child of conquest. 

But at the close of the seventeenth century the Hol- 
land bankers began to assume a national importance 
(1694), and in one century the banks had every govern- 
ment in Christendom by the throat. To begin a war 
they simpJy offered to loan money on seignorial lands 
and privileges, at usurious rates, ever protected against 
loss except by waste of personal property. 

The principal agency in the protective work of bank- 
ing and concurrent issue of credits, was a large and mys- 
terious family of Hebrew goldsmiths, gem-cutters and 
money loaners. The most prominent of these were the 
Rothschilds. 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


11 


A trifle ov£r two hundred years ago, before the rise 
of the Rothschilds, there was a conference of Hebrew 
bankers at Berlin, at that time becoming the home of 
many profound scholars and able financiers, driven there 
by religious persecution. At this time a philosophic doc- 
trine of “money” was enunciated for the first time in the 
history of the world. And its enunciation resulted in 
two of the most remarkable and gigantic developments 
in human history, though that history led up to the 
very gates of millenial realization. 

First. — The conference led to the establishment of 
the modern bank, beginning at Amsterdam, as an agency 
to use the “money” of other people for the bank profit. 
In a few years the “banks” had spread to the capitals of 
Europe. 

Second.— It led to a tribal, traditional purpose, 
in the matter of Hebrew financiering. This purpose 
was that all money, in time, should be bank money — that 
no government should bank for itself — that no people 
should create its currency. In other words, that all cur- 
rency, or money, should emanate from bankers, pay its 
tribute of origin, or issue, and be a time currency — to 
come back at maturity of debt, bearing interest tribute. 

With far-seeing vision, peculiar to a wonderful race, 
they saw the power thus given them, in years, to rule the 
world. 

They were not mistaken The banker has stood be- 
hind every throne in Christendom for nearly two hun- 
dred years — and that banker a Hebrew! The policies 
thus dictated by the Semite cult have extended far be- 
yond the limits of Christendom and expanded into a con- 
trol of other portfolios than that of finance. The genius of 
statecraft for these two centuries has been pre-eminently 
Semitic. Eminent illustrations of this profound master- 
ship are found in the premiership of men like D'lsraeli 


12 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


and Metternich. The tremendous financial control for 
almost a century has been in the hands of a single family, 
Hebrews under the generic name of Rothschild. Of this 
wonderful family more will be said later on. 

Now let us examine into the nature of the Hebrew 
element. The Jew is technically a descendant of Judah, 
one of the twelve tribes ‘constituting the great Hebrew 
monarchy The Judeans or Jews should not be con- 
fused with the Israelites. The latter were distinctively 
known as the ten tribes who were lost to history before 
the final destruction of the Jewish monarchy. It has 
been claimed, with much suggestive reasoning, that the 
yellow-haired, blonde, descendants of the ten tribes were 
scattered to the northwest and established the great An- 
glo-Saxon, Danite, Netherlands, and Gothic kingdoms 
of Europe. Of these Israelites it was prophesied they 
should be utterly lost, even to a knowledge of their own 
name. Of these Jews, on the other hand, it was foretold 
that their national characteristics, together with certain 
elements of power, should never be lost. 

Now, as to their apparent faculty of accumulation. 
It did not exist to a noticeable extent for centuries after 
the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus. Still, we observe 
that in the great Assyrian governments, Hebrews like 
Mordecai and Daniel became prime ministers, if not 
supreme rulers. 

The instinctive nature of the miser and the usurer 
exhibited as a Hebrew trait, was developed by persecu- 
tion. For fourteen centuries in the powerful Christian 
and Mohammedan nations of the world the Hebrew was 
not permitted to own, or traffic in, other property than 
personal effects. This may be to some extent an exag- 
geration. We leave this to the judgment of the histori- 
cal student. At times, when permitted to own realty, as 


THE FACTS IN THE CASK. 


13 


in Spain, they were afterward robbed of all possessions, 
and driven from native and adopted homes by flame and 
sword of most cruel persecution. 

Thus the Jewish character is the product of extraor- 
dinary necessity and vindictive hatred. But among 
themselves the Jews exercise the most remarkable com- 
monalty of feeling and philosophical, tribal jurispru- 
dence. No Jew can ever charge interest of his fellows 
and remain true to his theocratic organism. 

The unspeakable horrors of fourteen centuries of 
malignant persecutions justifies him in his peculiar 
development. As stated in Bacon’s “Merchant of Ven- 
ice,” the Christian taught him and he has “bettered the 
instruction.” 

We can, therefore, to some extent, understand the 
mysterious and almost supernatural power of a race 
whose mission it is to make hewers of wood and carriers 
of water of the entire Gentile cult. We have to deal 
with a race who are the most powerful in development 
in every avenue of human progression. In no depart- 
ment of intellectual, physical or esthetic emprise is the 
Jew a second. Judas Maccabeus has no peer in war- 
craft. In poetry, in modern song, in musical technique, 
in statecraft, in historical philosophy, and, in sanitary 
science, the Jew stands without a rival— the most splen- 
did achievements of genius are his. 

We therefore know with whom we have to deal. 
This nation has alone done the Jew justice— let us exact 
justice of him. 

It is our purpose to show that the Hebrew race has 
not only secured control of the financial policies of all 
the nations of the civilized world, but has succeeded in 
teaching the Gentile races the powerful advantages of 
organization and combination. Upon the part of the 


14 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


Gentiles this development has probably not been a mat- 
ter of foresight or prevision, or intent. It may be the 
fortuitous result of circumstances moulded and carved 
out by an invisible master-hand behind the thrones of all 
the nations of the earth. 

As for the Jew, the development of tribal power in 
the control of the finances has been the result of Pur- 
pose. There are powerful Jewish families other than 
that of the Rothschild (like the Montefiores), but we can- 
not enter into an extended analysis of the matter. 

As the Rothschilds have secured a supremacy in 
every capital in Europe, and have at least four financial 
representatives in this country, almost all of the organ- 
ized control of the money of the world is associated with 
their name. When the elder Rothschild died, at the 
beginning of the present century, he left five sons al- 
ready established in business, backed by the enormous 
capital of the father. Anselm established a branch at 
Frankfurt. Nathan remained in London, where he was 
already the practical prime minister of Anglo-Saxon in- 
terests. Solomon made his headquarters in Vienna. His 
power reached over what was known as the “Holy Ro- 
man Empire,” including Hungary, Bohemia and Sclavon- 
ic races. James remained in Paris, where he met the 
most gigantic opposition to his control on the part of 
Gallic banks. He maintained, however, the complete 
supremacy. Charles was located in Naples, but there his 
power was somewhat limited. On the death of these 
sons their intermarried descendants kept all their power 
as a unit against all Gentile encroachment. It is impos- 
sible for us to even generalize upon their methods or ma- 
chinery There has been one fierce effort on the part of the 
Gentile world to overthrow the power of this family. Its 
success would have been more possible if the conflict had 


THE FACTS IN THE CASK* 


15 


not been circumscribed by the membership of the Paris 
Bourse. The financial world at large took no part in the 
movement. In this stormy effort to build up a vast cred- 
it interest, powerful enough to resist the Rothschilds, 
that family permitted the upbuilding of the gigantic 
fabric and the issue of its countless stock- shares, which 
had risen to fabulous prices, until success seemed certain 
and position secure. Then with the overwhelming rush 
of a Niagara the Rothschild interest entered the lists, as 
a seller, backed with almost inconceivable resources, and 
a short, sharp, fearful struggle followed. The new organ- 
ization was crushed with fearful force, and the Jewish 
interests reaped half the fortunes of the speculators of 
the French capital. This was the first and only attempt 
that has ever been made by the anti-Semitic interests to 
recover their financial liberties from the clutches of the 
Rothschild. No attempt will ever be made again. The 
reason for this is clear. During the last thirty years 
the Jewish interest has exerted every effort to unite all 
capitalistic agencies into a common purpose, outlined by 
them. 

Their efforts have been thus far successful, and the 
present situation presents us with two great forces nerv- 
ing themselves for a final struggle for the supremacy. 

But it is not the Hebrew against the Gentile banker. 
It is the Hebrew polity leading Capital on to the con- 
quest of Humanity. 

The fact that humanity is awakening is witnessed by 
a thousand current events, connected with the great 
financial crash of 1893, and not the least of which is the 
effort to preserve silver coinage. 

The Purpose is clearly defined : — THE DESTRUC- 
TION OF ALL MONEY WHICH IS NOT BORROWED 
FROM A BANKER— except gold, which will serve as 


16 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


a “standard,” and be used by banks as a security basis. 

Three distinct assaults have been made upon this 
country to establish this system, the last, in 1862, being 
successful. But for over half a century a “compromise” 
obtained a foothold — private banks and corporations 
were permitted to issue the money. If not entirely vic- 
torious, the capitalistic interest, under Semitic guidance, 
prevented the people from establishing a natural, per- 
manent, portable- value as an exchange or “currency.” 

At the breaking out of the war of the rebellion there 
came a time speedily when the government took unto 
itself the money making function. It did so promptly 
and issued $61,000,000 of treasury notes, greenbacks, or 
demand notes. These notes were redeemable — not in 
productive property, but in gold, as were also the subse- 
quent issues. These notes were competent to pay the 
debts owed to the issuer— which was the government. 
Under these notes you did not have to buy a special 
“commodity” with which to cancel a debt to the govern- 
ment These notes were always at a premium over gold. 

The Semitic interest on Lombard St., London, saw 
the danger which overshadowed their purpose. Instant 
preparations were made to prevent any more such dem- 
onstrations of the despotism of banking. A cry went 
up from over the world against the greenback. This cry 
was fierce, vindictive, continuous and venomous. And 
when the next issue was made, it was mutilated with the 
celebrated “exception clause,” by which it was legal ten- 
der for all debts except those of the maker of the bill ! 1 — 
a provision ludicrous enough to make a saint laugh when 
he had stepped into Hell by mistake ! Subsequently the 
American Banking Association secured an act by which 
the government repudiated its contract with the people, 
published on the greenback. The contract by which the 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


17 


people took the greenback, as expressed on its back, was 
that it should be legal tender for the payment of “all 
debts, public and private,” except interest on bonds and 
for customs. They repudiated this, and took from them 
their power to pay the principal of the public debt. 
This was the more shameful as the bonds were bought 
with the greenback with a profit of $603,000,000, up to 
September, 1865. 

The first step taken in 1862 was to get the bankers in 
this country thoroughly organized. They accomplished 
this easily, and their headquarters were at Room 4, 274 
Broadway, New York, under the secretaryship of James 
Buell. 

A circular was issued from the Agency of the Bank 
of England by a banker named Hazzard — we understand 
the same who afterwards became the president of a Trust 
Company in Philadelphia, though we are uncertain as to 
this. It was followed by the “Buell Circular,” known to 
be genuine, received by thousands of bankers, a copy of 
which has been shown us. 

Never before were there such cruel, traitorous docu- 
ments uttered as these two circulars to the bankers. In 
1776 they would have precipitated a revolution. In 
Europe, today, at this very hour, the common people and 
merchants would not stand such an invasion of equity 
by a gang of miscreant bankers. 

Their authenticity was questioned for a time. But 
that was soon settled. It was even vouched for by the 
Chicago Inter Ocean. We publish below a letter from 
the man who first brought them to notice. The “Haz- 
zard” man became afterwards a Philadelphia Trust and 
Loan banker, it is said, and recently died : 

Sir— I n reply to your polite request of yesterday, ex- 
pressing a desire to be informed of the origin of the copy 


18 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


of the “Hazzard circular” copied by the National Review 
some four years ago from the columns of the Council 
Grove Guard, then published by me in Council Grove, 
Kan., I have to say that I obtained the original copy 
from a Mr. J. W. Simcock, the cashier of the First Na- 
tional bank of Council Grove, Kan. 1, at that time, say 
about the year 1873, was the attorney for that bank, and 
one day when the cashier was writing up and arranging 
a large number of accumulated letters and other papers 
of supposed value, either he or I came across the “Haz- 
zard Circular” together with the circular of the American 
bankers and signed by one Buell. I asked Mr. Simcock 
for these two circulars and he gave them to me then, and 
at the same time, in reply to questions I asked him, he 
said that their day of usefulness was over, that his 
friends in New York, some bankers there, sent them to 
him, that he might the better understand the history 
and origin of the national ban king system, as he was a 
comparatively new banker I kept them for the light 
they threw upon the financial questions of the times, and 
published the “Hazzard Circular” first September 18, 188(5, 
omitting the date therefrom, for the reason that it had 
dropped off, having been so folded that when I came to 
print it the date had been lost off. The date was that of 
the summer or fall of 1862, but the exact month or day I 
cannot recollect, November I think. 

[Signed.] Isaac Sharp. 

728 10th St., N. W., Washington, D. C., Aug. 20, 1890. 

The following is a copy of the Hazzard Circular, now 
familiar to the Reform Press of America : 

THE HAZZARD CIRCULAR. 

“Slavery is likely to be abolished by the war power 
and chattel slavery destroyed. This, I and my European 
friends are in favor of, for slavery is but the owning of 
labor and carries with it the care of the laborer, while 
the European plan, led on by England, is capital control 
of labor, by controlling wages. This can be done by con- 
trolling the money. The great debt that capitalists will 
see to it is made out of the war, must be used as a meas- 
ure to control the volume of money. To accomplish 
this, the bonds must be used as a banking basis We are 
now waiting to get the secretary of treasury to make 
this recommendation to congress. It will not do to al- 
low the “greenback,” as it is called, to circulate as money 
any length of time, for we cannot control them. But we 
can control the bonds and through them the bank issue.” 


THE BUELL CIRCULAR. 

“Dear Sir: It is ad visible to do all in your power to 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


19 


sustain such daily and weekly newspapers, especially the 
agricultural and religious press, as will oppose the issu- 
ing of greenback paper money, and that you also with- 
hold patronage or favors from all who will not oppose 
the government issue of money. Let the government 
issue the coin and the banks the paper money of the 
country, for then we can better protect each other. To 
repeal the law creating national banks or to restore to 
circulation the government issue of money will be to pro- 
vide the people with money and will, therefore, seriously 
affect your individual profits as bankers and lenders. 
See your member of congress at once and engage him to 
support our interest that we may control legislation.” 


The far-sighted Hebrew early discovered that if ex- 
change took the place of barter, the banker’s bills could 
float as such currency — that is, domestic exchange would 
be used. Back of that would be gold and silver, in the 
vaults. 

The gold and silver need not remain there, but could 
be “let out” within easy call, on interest the same as the 
bills. Thus, the “security” would bring income, and the 
loaned bills would double that income. 

But, during all the years of the successful develop- 
ment of the plans of Capitalism, the fact remained po- 
tently visible to the people, that Government alone could 
issue real money. It was necessary, therefore, to obscure 
this matter by sophisticated methods, and the use of a 
“national” term in the title. Of course, by recent expos- 
ures throughout the world, to the common people, ah in- 
telligent people understand that a “national” bank is in 
no wise different from any bank permitted to issue a non- 
legal tender currency for its own benefit— the govern- 
ment providing an absolutely unnecessary, post-rebellion 
debt (bond) for the “security 1” Of course all such “cur- 
rency” could only issue as a loan, a debt to the banker— 
amd it is almost ludicrous that people would accept that 
as genuine “money!” 


2 


20 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


With the march of intelligence the people would see 
the folly of using a debt for an actual portable value— at a 
fearful cost to labor and commerce. The governments 
would undoubtedly soon issue its own currency, perpetu- 
al and full-secured— as against a time-loan, partially se- 
cured (bond-debt secured) artifice. A government cur- 
rency is always, by virtue of issue, a debt-payer ; a bank 
currency is always, by virtue of issue, a debt-creator. If 
a government issued currency at interest that interest is 
in lieu of taxes. The Hebrew control saw thi«, and did 
not propose to take money at interest and with taxa* 
tion— from both of which they were relieved by a uebc- 
issue from their own bank. 

The Foreign Control first demanded a bond debt, and 
obtained it. A bond debt has two objects : 

First— a fund into which wealthy ease may put its 
cash without any of the risks of business or commerce, 
and draw sweat tribute from those who do take such risk 
and labor. The government bond never laid a brick, em- 
ployed a muscle, turned a wheel, or put a dollar into the 
government vaults or people’s hands. The latter state- 
ment is particularly true. 

Second — an interest bearing security whereby the 
banking business and the issue of currency may be car- 
ried on without capital. The bond is an investment, a 
bill receivable, already calling for its income, and unse- 
cured-unpayable in case of war or disruption. 

In order to avoid the possible issue of money, secured 
upon real property, the Control inaugurated the plan of 
& “national” bank in every capital in Europe, and finally 
in America. The idea of a national bank, of private or 
corporate ownership, in itself, apart from all the network 
of sophistication designedly thrown around it, is simply 
monstrous. A more unjust, dangerous and pernicious 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


21 


scheme of finance could not be invented. It has brought 
ruin upon the people in every nation where it is in con- 
trol. 

No better illustrations of this can be used than the 
selection of two instances where the “national” bank 
WAS in control. In Argentine, the total of “money” was 
the national bank issue. Not having national bonds for 
“security” the government invented the cedula or a 
land bond. As, of course, all currency had to return to 
the banks, larger in amount than went forth, issues in- 
creased until the whole miserable fabric toppled over. 

The John Law “Mississippi Bubble,” in France, was 
a national bank pure and simple— and ruin followed. 
In the United States, under a partial system, every dol- 
lar in existence is now borrowed over 6.7 times. 

The common people have been ground to powder 
under the system in Europe. 

No better way of presenting this evil occurs to us 
than to draw a picture of its effects where it is the only 
source of currency. And for this purpose let us con- 
struct two republics— one with the national bank— one 
with government currency. 

FIRST REPUBLIC— NATIONAL BANK. 

A republic of 65,000,000 people is organized, and it 
has no money except gold, and that is stored in vaults 
as security, and as national reserve. 

Its legislature decides that at least 2,000 millions 
of money are required, as might naturally be the case— 
about $30 per capita. They decide on the “national 
bank.” 

The money is printed and delivered to the “nation- 
al” banks— banks owned wholly by corporated individ- 
uals. The people can only get that money by borrowing 
of the banks. They do so. Every dollar is a debt, and 


22 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


a debt to a private corporation — and, of course, not 
money ; but the people consent to be deceived, and go on 
with their business. 

The average interest paid on that money is, by dis- 
count and compounding, 20 per cent a year. We will 
call it but 10 per cent. 

Now, to illustrate what is silently going on, we will 
suppose that at the end of the first twelve months God 
calls the people unto him, and decrees that every debt 
must be paid within one month — on pain of death. 

Each man and woman begins to pay his or her 
neighbor — but the final journey of each dollar must be 
to the bank counter, to pay the debt which brought 
forth each dollar ! At last, on the final day, the 2,000 
millions of dollars are all paid over the counter — not a 
dollar of currency for food or business remains in exist- 
ence among the vast population. Not a pound of food, 
even, could be purchased, except by creating a new debt. 

But at the head of a vast throng of ragged, despair- 
ing people there comes up to the counter of the national 
bank a phantom, a filmy, bleary, spectre — a shape of ill, 
such as pregnates in the basement dens of Despair. Up- 
on her forehead are lurid scars which form the word — 
“Woe.” Upon her breast are the livid letters, “Debt 
across her loins a ragged mantle, “Drink!” One arm is 
leprous with Vice — the other, bloody with Crime. 

The banker, with ashen face, lifts his hands against 
the ghastly Nemesis, and cries, 

“Who art thou ?” 

The fingers of the unholy Terror clutch at the marble 
columns supporting the fluted architraves, and like a ser- 
pent she hisses the words: “See, I am Poverty! — the 
bride of Robbery! These are our children — yours and 
mine. They have come to tell their tender father that 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


23 


they cannot pay the $200,000,000 which is still owing to 
thee !” 

“They had the money did they not?” demanded the 
banker, long practiced in command. 

“They had your credit.” 

“Let them pay it back — or die !” cried the banker. 

“Die? Certainly. You and I will stir fever in their 
blood, and riot will give excuse ! Then War can shake 
his bloody banner — in the name of the Christ. Why, 
Starvation claims 10,000 of them every year in New York. 
We can do as we please, you and I.” 

“Then let them pay their debt,” growled the banker. 

“Pay, thou Fool?” shrieked Poverty! “Didst thou 
not loan 2,000 millions ? Is not the debt this day 200 mil- 
lions greater than all the money issued, by virtue of the 
interest? From whence, then, will money come to pay, 
thou Hell-born child of thy bride’s father — after the en- 
tire issue is returned to thee ?” 

“Let them give me mortgages !” gnashed the wretch, 
■white with rage. 

“Ha, ha,” laughed the phantom, “but a mortgage is 
a debt. Go to, Lucifer, thou and thy system and myself 
— triune elements — we’ll destroy this generation and rob 
the next !” Turning to, the vast mob of grovelling debt- 
ors, she cried in a hoarse, sepulchral voice, “Dig your 
graves, ye anarchists and imbeciles, even Poverty is tired 
of you.” 

And as the phantom faded, the face of the Christ ap- 
peared, and the door of Hell opened, and straightway 
the banker entered in. 

THE SECOND REPUBLIC. 

Under similar conditions, another republic issues its 
own currency, secured, for illustration, by four times the 
face value of productive real estate, the parties receiv- 


24 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


ing the currency in city and country, paying, to them- 
selves — the government — interest which is taxes — re- 
lieving those who do not receive. The security is the 
only REAL property in the world, called REAL Estate. 
It is indestructable, unhideable, immoveable, unsteal- 
able, and productive. It cannot be spent in war, nor 
wasted in dissipation. 

Two thousand millions are uttered— much of it in 
the way of building improvements, secured on the prop- 
erty. This money has also been out a year. God, by 
way of contrast, after the taxes have been paid, de- 
mands that debts be also paid. And they are. And the 
next morning there are still 2,000 millions of money in 
circulation, and business goes happily on. 

THIRD. — PECULIAR PROSPERITY. 

Let us suppose that under the national banking sys- 
tem all the debts could be paid. Of course they could 
not. But we will imagine a case : 

God gives that first republic five years in which to 
pay every debt, with the injunction that onch happily 
out of debt it will be death to run in debt again. Then, 
to make the payments easy, he sends five years of enor- 
mous crops — high prices — splendid business. 

As the crops ripen for the harvest the five years 
close. All the debts are paid. (Of course we imagine 
this— it could not be done.) Every one rejoices. The 
nation is wild with joy. Crime dissappears in a large 
measure. The children are ambitious. Parents are 
again free from care. The stores are full of goods for 
sale. The trains are at the station ready to carry the 
garnered grain. The storehouse is full of implements. 
Eleven million arms are ready to enter the fields and 
factories on that following morn. 

But not a yard of cloth is bought. The engine is 


THL FACTS IN THE CASE. 


25 


dead at the station. The implements are unsold. The 
grain, waving in ripened splendor in a thousand fields, 
is uncut— is shucking on the ground. 

The world is rich. 

The world is poor. 

What is the matter? Why, not an ounce of food 
could be bought until the miserable, rich, debt-free pur- 
chaser goes to a national banker and runs into debt 
again ! 

That is a national bank system— and its “prosperity !” 

We now come to another phase of this subject. With 
abundance of metal money, the borrowing of currency 
from a bank would not be necessary. For centuries 
there was little metal money and little commerce. Dur- 
ing the excitement of the gold discoveries — 1849 to 1858 — 
gold became more abundant. Immediately the Hebrew 
element began to work the demonetization of gold. 

Four different governments demonetized gold from 
1849 to 1859. But it soon became evident that gold would 
have to be mined under difficulties — that lumps and 
nugget gold would not afford any material amount. 
That therefore gold could never “flood” the world with 
currency. 

The next assault was made upon silver. England 
led in this destruction of silver. Exaggerated reports of 
wonderful yields were sent abroad over the earth. The 
Comstock “lode” was villainously exaggerated, as shown 
by the French Commission. The press was purchased 
throughout Europe. But in this country the press was 
not consulted largely. The destruction of silver as cur- 
rency, (the destruction of “free coinage”) was accom- 
plished by stealth and corrupt politics. 

As this is denied, it may be necessary to give a few 
facts. 


26 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


1st. — Silver was stricken down when it was worth 
more as bullion than gold — at a premium over gold. 

2d. — No vote was ever taken on the bill. It was 
“passed” at nearly midnight without reading, February, 
1873. 

3d —It never was, really, destroyed. The bill, cland- 
estinely passed, did not provide for coining the standard 
dollar. But the former law was not repealed. 

4th. — It was done by British Purchase. Ernest Seyd 
was an English agent of the Bank of England, and 
a supposed friend of silver. He came over from London, 
in 1872, says “The American Banker,” conferred with 
the bankers of New York, and went on to Washington 
to assist in silver legislation. The Congressional Record 
tells us that this English agent assisted very materially 
in adjusting matters relating to coinage in the winter of 
72-’73. Hon. Mr. Kelly states that he saw the bill in 
Seyd’s handwriting. And a banker, named Luckenbach, 
has put under oath, among the archives of the Supreme 
Court of Colorado, a statement that Ernest Seyd told 
him that he purchased the bill through with $500,000 of 
money under direction of the governors of the Bank of 
England — that he had orders to draw for $500,000 more if 
required. 

As it is now denied by John Sherman that the de- 
struction of silver was done in secret, we append the 
necessary proof. That that proof is required as against 
John Sherman, seems unreasonable. Sherman’s outra- 
geous reputation regarding the repudiation of the pub- 
lic-debt paying power of the greenback has forever 
silenced his voice so far as trustworthy declarations can 
go. 

But the great public mind has become poisoned by 
the intentional misrepresentations of the Foreign Dicta- 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


27 


tion. A more bald and indefensible falsehood never was 
perpetrated than that the demonetization of silver was 
openly and honorably accomplished in 1873. 

We offer the following testimony from enough to fill 
thousands of pages published on this matter. We only 
give statements. The letters, and the speeches, and the 
documents have all been published in the “Great West” 
and other journals. 

Pres’t Grant wrote a letter eight months after sign- 
ing the bill stating that he did not know that silver was 
demonetized. 

Pres’t Grant, in his message, within twelve months, 
advised the building of mints at Chicago, St. Louis, 
Omaha, etc., to increase the SILVER COINAGE to pre- 
pare for resumption. 

Sen. Stewart, a “silver king,” VOTED FOR THE 
BILL destroying his own property, not knowing that he 
did so — the bill never having been read. 

The bill passed was a “substitute,” brought forward 
during the last forty-eight hours of the session. 

No vote was ever taken thereon. 

Sen. Holman, in speech July 13, 1876, called it a “col- 
lossal swindle.” “I assert that the measure never had 
the sanction of the house.” 

On Aug. 5th he makes the fraud still more apparent, 
declaring that Hooper (sponsor for the unread bill) sig- 
nified that there was nothing in the bill to call for 
reading. 

Cannon, Illinois, July 13, 1876 : “Neither members 
of congress, nor the people, understood the scope of the 
legislation.” 

Sen. Bogy, Missouri, June 27, 1876, declares that no 
man can tell why that act forbade the coinage of silver. 

Burchard, Illinois, July 23, 1876, declares the act a 
secret matter. 

Sen. Conklin, Mch. 30, 1876, in the senate, asked, in 
surprise — “Is it true that there is now no American dol- 
lar ?” — and more to the same effect. 

Gen. Garfield, 1877, declares his shame at not know- 
ing that silver was demonetized. 


28 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


Sen. Allison, Feb., 1878, puts it even stronger than 
Garfield ; speaks of “silent history.” 

Jas. G. Blaine declared he never knew demonetiza- 
tion was in the bill. Mr. Voorhies declared that he did 
not know it. 

Sen. Beck, Jan., 1878, says no one knew— newspapers 
nor congressmen. 

Sen. Herford reiterates that statement. 

Mr. Kelley, Penn., CHAIRMAN of the committee on 
coinage, declares he was ignorant of the fact that this 
substitute left out the silver dollar ! See speech of Mch. 
9, 1878. 

Sen. Howe declared the deed a monstrous, venial, 
secret wrong. 

As stated before, we can take this question into 
various avenues and demonstrate by volumes of testi- 
mony the secretiveness of Sherman and his English Con- 
trol, together with organic meetings in the Hebrew 
polity interest, to plan the secret destruction of the 
American dollar. 

There is now no American “Dollar.” The “dollar” 
does not exist — except in representative paper currency. 

AS TO PRODUCTION. 

The excuse for surrendering this nation to Anglo- 
Hebraic control was that silver had increased enormous- 
ly in its production. 

Let us see. — The production of silver as to gold, in 
different years was as follows : 

1801 — 1820, 4 of silver to 1 of gold. 

1821—1844, 2 “ “ “ 1 “ 

1841—1860, 1 “ “ “ 1* “ “ 

1861—1880, 1 “ “ “ 2 “ “ 

1881—1889, 1 1-6 “ “ 1 “ 

This forever disposes of the statement that propor- 
tional quantity had anything to do with the matter. 
Gold was the actual “dishonest” money at time of 
destruction. 

The fact is, silver was the only money not under the 
bankers’ control. And the most essential step to the 
conquest of the world — a world now united by a vast 
commercial interest — was to remove the one specific cur- 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


29 


rency which was not under their control. Silver was 
AMERICAN and beyond Hebraic control. 

To control the volume of money is to control the 
price of labor and the price of productions. 

This is the control sought by the great centralized 
Hebrew capitalism of Europe. The United States stood 
in their way. The barrier has been removed, and the 
despotism of the dollar is nearly complete. 

It was to this end that Levi P. Morton, a British 
banker, was elected vice-president— and president of the 
senate. That he was also secret publisher of the “Im- 
perialist,” in New York, is strongly asserted. It was to 
the same end, revolutionary and despotic, that Whitelaw 
Reid, the servile monarchist who robbed Horace Greeley 
of the Tribune and drove him into insanity, was nom- 
inated for the vice presidency. It was to the same end that 
Grover Cleveland, the uneducated, unknown, dogmatic, 
dissipated and imperious nobody, was pushed forward to 
pretentious eminence. 

It is to this end that the Associated Press has secured 
complete control, under a costly franchise organization, 
of every daily in the nation, and every mile of tele- 
graphic wire. 

A statement that there is an ACTUAL combine of 
banking interests to compel the world to pay tribute to 
a class, and separate capitalism from production and 
trade, as a caste, will not be received with full credence. 
But such is the truth, the absolute truth. It is impossi- 
ble to give the substantial developments in regard to 
this — they would fill volumes. In congress over a hun- 
dred law-makers are national bankers, either as directors 
or officials. They are a mighty bulwark behind which 
aggressive work is accomplished by the European mas- 
ters of the situation. 

How does the Hebrew maintain such an influence ? 
By its 11,000 millions in investments here, not one-half 
of the interest upon which is collectable for transporta- 
tion abroad — and its reinvestment is the mighty lever of 
control. Then the press, and the intellect, and the 
political wire pulling, are all on the side of the “pinto- 


30 


THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 


crat” behind capitalism, legislating in its own interest. 

Every important crash or financial crisis takes place 
at the bidding, and under the direction of the banking 
combine, and under the suggestion and leadership of the 
Semitic Control. Not a crisis but could be instantly re- 
lieved by them if desired. 

This control has been referred to in congress, and 
openly, bitterly, violently charged. The absolute proofs 
have been presented. Not a man of intelligence at this 
time, (Sept., 1893,) in New York City, but is fully aware 
of the fact that the financial storm of the present year 
was initiated and managed by the foreign and American 
banking associations. In congress, on the 10th of Sep- 
tember, Sen. Teller made the following remarks: “Mr. 
Teller asserted, and he believed it could be demonstrated, 
that if it had not been for a preconcerted effort in the 
money centre of the country to prevent it, the first of 
September would have seen better times in the finances 
of the countrv than the people were experiencing today. 
It was admitted now by all the great financial author- 
ities of New York that the panic was over. He met one 
day recently a gentleman of national reputation, and 
said to him : ‘When will this panic be over ?’ That 
gentleman replied : ‘When the men who called it on, 
call it off. The bankers of New York called it on ; when 
they get ready to call it off it will come off.’ ” 

The object is the complete subjugation of the human 
race to certain laws of caste, whereby the toiler works 
for food and clothing — while the higher realm of a bet- 
ter and brighter life is occupied by those whom birth, 
or an almost superhuman genius, or an accidental 
chance, brings into the field of fortune. Reader, this 
statement is a Fact. 

THE FOLLOWING STORY 

Does not have a “Labor Hero” as an advocate for man. 
Its reference to labor is accidental. It creates no false 
“hero.” Rap McKenzie is such a man as develops in act- 
ual life. The lesson to the student of American politics 
is taught as mighty issues involved in his life and asso- 
ciations. Not one man on the Stock Boards of the world 
understands today the financial issues made by the 
laboring man. 


the lily and the lump. 


s 1 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER I. 


THE LILY AND THE LUMP. 

Soft and mellow the twilight settled down 
upon the suburban village of Poolville. The light 
deepened into a yellow veil of amber and gold. 
The river was a sheen of glittering splendor, and 
from afar the water of the Sound mingled its 
purplish mists with the lambent sky. Autumn’s 
drift was lodged on w T ood and meadow — following 
Springtide’s kisses and Summer’s ardent glow. 

Poolville was one of the near outlying popu- 
lations of the American metropolis. Along the 
eastern border a river flowed, though it may be 
doubtful whether all the natural offshoots of the 
lower Hudson may be called “rivers.” It was a 
peaceable body of water, and on its placid bosom 
the sober-minded geese floated in majesty, and 
sailed and sailed away. Below the village the 
river took a cranky turn, through ancient marsh 
and brake, and then drew nearer to the city and 
its higher land. 

At Poolville, a bayou, or estuary, reached 
out from the riyer, like a crooked finger, and 


32 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

across this was a country bridge. Pond and 
bridge have now disappeared. 

As the shadowy gloaming peacefully settles 
down upon the village, a family carriage is driv- 
en along the roadway leading over the bridge. 
In this carriage is a child, a little girl, not more 
than six years of age. She is one of the golden- 
haired little angels who dwell in poets’ dreams 
and mothers’ loves. While the carriage is cross- 
ing the bridge, the fair-haired elfin is laughing 
and crowing in childish glee, and lashing weeds 
and posts with the driver’s whip. 

Upon the edge of the bridge sat a curious ob- 
ject, which upon close inspection resembled a boy ! 
But so dreadfully ragged was he, and so humped 
up into a formless mass, that he could easily be 
mistaken for anything in the nature of an animal 
curiosity. The name of the lump was Rap Mc- 
Kenzie— and he exercised a fish-line in solemn 
anxiety. That would be a rude jester who would 
link together the fortunes of the shapeless lump 
on the bridge and the little Glory in the carriage, 
switching the whip in careless merriment. 

In driving leisurely by, the little girl caught 
sight of the silent lump. “What’s that, mam- 
ma?” And she gave the object of her curiosity a 
playful cut of the whip. 

The whip scarcely touched the youngster, but 
it clipped the ragged emblem of a hat, which 
crowned the highest section of the mass — and over 
it went into the river ! The frolicsome angel soon 
discovered that the thing was alive. It yelled. 
It rose with great agility, and began the delivery 
of a sermon well spiced with noisy adjectives. 


THE LILY AND THE LUMP. 


But when his eyes rested upon the frightened face 
of the child, he held his breath and stared vigor- 
ously at the fairy -like beauty. The carriage 
stopped and the little girl’s father handed him a 
coin, remarking that his daughter was very 
sorry. 

At that the “vision” began to cry and talk 
at the same time— and Rags couldn’t stand it to 
see Beauty grieved, go he leaped upon fche car- 
riage step, crowded the money into h( X hand, 
ran away, and went without a hat fe? e.\day or 
two, or until he could pick up another. 

Rap McKenzie lived with his parents in a 
diminutive house, which was going to seed, in a 
sloping meadow upon the riyer bank, a half-mile 
below the bridge. In that part of Poolville were 
several factories. There were great smoke-stacks 
climbing heavenward, attached to buildings 
whose mission it w r as to create shovels and stew- 
pans for the human race. One large structure 
was devoted to machine work of a finer and more 
esthetic type— fine iron and brass machinery — the 
model-maker’s Mecca and the inventor’s Para- 
dise ! 

Now, Mr., Miss, or Mistress, if you have to 
travel far with so ill-looking a creature as this 
youth, it will be well, though disagreeable, to 
have an introduction. We apologise for his ex- 
istence— to the wholly righteous and the spotless. 
The apology is made in behalf of Society, which 
permits such squalid infancy to be the unearned 
inheritance of the blameless born ! We trust that 
the cultured reader will seek acquaintance with 
Rap in the spirit of an evangel, to compel civil- 


84 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


ized Inhumanity to act more closely to its preten- 
tious development. 

Rap was no angel. When born he was not 
welcomed by the pattering footsteps of countless 
barefooted cherubs, crowding the corridors of 
heaven to catch another blissful immortality by 
the wings. There was never a more unpromising 
rythm, in all that prophetic rataplan of barefoot 
seraphs, than when they scampered off at the an- 
nouncement of his birth ! Nor was he born in the 
beauty of the lily. Over above his dark face were 
scattered trifles of red hair, and the blue of his 
eyes matched no cerulean hue known to picture 
builders. People who have seen his dark-brown 
hair in later years may question our statement, 
but the truth is with us. His mouth was gener- 
ous, his ears magnanimous, his fists ponderous. 
His voice was not melodious. 

Rap's education was not profound. The Doc- 
trine of the Absolute was a cave of emptiness to 
him. The squaring of the circle was as simple to 
him as the multiplication table, having heard of 
nei ther ! 

Not that his education had been neg- 
lected along certain other lines! No! At ten 
years of age he could mark his fights by the 
pickets on Squire Ketchum’s fence— the posts 
would count the “lickin's.” At fourteen he 
had been on trial for his liberty before the Squire, 
and only escaped the reformatory bv the plea of 
his mother. Her plea was that her boy was fight- 
ing for his father’s life that time ; and as the fath- 
er was killed, the boy would now be her only 
support. 


THE LILY AND THE LUMP. 


33 


A very perceptible smile covered the face of 
the court when the plea was made, which smile the 
murky brain of the boy observed. Inasmuch as 
the father had been a brute whom the communi- 
ty were happy to be rid of, the court conclud- 
ed to accept one blessing at a bime, and give 
the boy a chance to try it alone. Even the 
court could see that at one time the moth- 
er had been a bud of the most excellent prom- 
ise, and that her womanhood was not now 
wholly lost, though for twenty years she had 
breathed the atmosphere of the sewers, and ap- 
parently partaken of its noxious inhalations. 
Hope still lay upon the altar of her heart, waiting 
for fire from the Lord God to come down and 
give it the divine opportunity to burn— and it 
came ! 

It was not long after that the “boys” heard 
that Rap was at work on a job. He found his 
first opportunity in connection with the foundry 
of the machinery establishment over the way. 
Wjth the same energy that he fought his ‘‘scraps” 
he worked to remove iron-scraps from the mill- 
grounds to the place directed. As usual, in the 
matter of “scraps,” he did more than was expect- 
ed of him! — while he asked pay only for the con- 
tract. 

A week or two after the removal of the scrap- 
iron, the Superintendent of the works heard two 
of the men laughing at the “grit” of the boy in 
the removal of the slag as well as the scrap, and 
getting pay for the removal of but one pile of 
the debris ! A few days after this he was near by 
when the ex-scapegrace asked the foreman for 


3 


86 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

more work, with the look but not accent of a dolt. 

“Say boss, gimme another job!” 

The “boss” did not reply at once. Meantime 
the superintendent came up and looked over the 
youth impelled by curiosity. He saw a broad- 
faced, rough, matured, bony lad of perhaps four- 
teen years, with an exceedingly animal mouth— 
not prominent, but sensuous— and animal limbs. 

“Kin ye give me somethin’ to do boss? 
Wasn’t the scrap removed all right?” 

It was with a feeling of pity that the superin- 
tendent looked upon the object — bordering upon 
disgust. “Surely,” thought he, “there can be no 
equality of the human race while such offspring 
are thrust upon the world to grow up without 
even animal training.” And then he said to 
the boy in a spirit of curiosity, to hear him talk: 

“Are you the boy that moved the scrap-iron 
to the new wing?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“And that pile of slag?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Did you get pay for moving both?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“How so? Were you hired to move both 
piles?” 

“No sir, but I heerd ther boss say as to how 
both o’ them piles had ter go— and so yer see I 
lifted in and made both went.” 

“And you were paid extra for it probably?” 

“No sir, I wasn’t hired for to do it.” 

“Now I remember, you are the boy that whip- 
ped Jerry Smith, in the engine room, some time 
ago?” 


THE LILY AND THE LUMP. 


37 


“Yes sir.” 

“Would you like a steady iob?” 

“A lickin’ uv Jerry Smith, mister?” 

“No, no,” he replied, both men laughing at 
Rap’s solemn face, “at more useful work.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Will you agree to live in peace with all the 
world?” 

Rap’s dull eyes showed a slight, very slight, 
break in their slumberous dullness. He cast them 
down to his feet, and then to his hands and his 
wretched clothing. With one of his earliest ef- 
forts to think, he replied, 

“Mister, I’m afeered I aint good for anything. 
I don’t know what I kin do. I don’t know noth- 
in’ ! I’ll do anything I kin.” 

He uttered this in a rather despairing tone, 
and very slowly. He continued: “I’m as strong 
as a ox, an’ I likes to be gettin’ somewheres.” 

The superintendent looked at the machine be- 
fore him — bones and muscle— five senses and a big 
appetite! “Why do such things cumber the 
earth?” he muttered. 

“Laird,” he said aloud to the foreman, “pro- 
mote the lad at the cupola ; the work is too heavy 
for him. Set this boy at the work, and see if we 
can’t make a president of him!” 


33 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE CLOD AND THE MILLIONAIRE. 

Our animal went to work. Soon the weather- 
beaten cottage, in the meadow by the river, had 
every window patched, and the leaks in the roof 
repaired; the fence straightened up. There was 
rest in the poor home — for hope is rest in the 
midst of toil. The old “good” in the mother's 
heart began to pulse and throb, like as the un- 
born robin, when warmed to life in the shell. 

Rap deserted his boisterous crowd, and moved 
silently, clumsily to his task. In summer time, 
after work at night he wandered up and down the 
river bank, as if to tire his overgrown body — per- 
haps to muse within the narrow confines of his 
prison house of ignorance ! 

The mother did not like these after supper 
wanderings. And yet, it may have been the 
“mother” in his chrj^salis self, having a wrestle 
with the angels at Peniel— and like Jacob, “he 
knew them not!” 

The life of the ragged lump, touched alike by 
the whip and the sorrow of the child, is begun. 
We would like to continue and introduce all those 
who will enter upon our pages, and have the cir- 
cle completed. But the impulse to stick to Rap a 
few’ moments longer isvery strong— not with stand- 


CLOD AND MILLIONAIRE, 


39 


in g 'the fact that he smacks his lips at the table 
and swizzles his soup in an uncomfortable manner ! 

You see, reader, fair or unfair, we are afraid 
that in the whirlpool of the social maelstrom — 
amidst the carved architraves of the polished 
social structure— and happier epic activities— we 
shall forget an item of great importance to this 
Clod, before the rags begin to drop from his soul. 

And therefore— with a rubv lip and a dark- 
blue eve, and a slender waist and a taper hand, a 
beautiful dream, standing behind the doorway of 
memory — veiled m its own light wavy hair, and 
lustrous with its sunshine — waiting upon our call 
to step forth upon a real stage of a real world— 
with this angel-drapery of a soul waiting, we lin- 
ger unwillingly in a grosser sphere ! Come, ye gen- 
tle reader, dip your hands into the filthy clay 
wallowed out by a wise generation— and we will 
burn it in the furnace fire of fate, and bring it forth 
to sit upon a pedestal in the vestibule of the gods ! 

Rap has become eighteen years of age. He 
has worked these long years under Boss Laird 
without a word of praise or complaint. He has 
not risen above the common laborer. He is an 
animal still, of powerful frame, seeming to work 
without weariness, and always ready to do the 
work of others when their strength failed or kind- 
ness invited. 

He still “mopes” — spends his time away from 
his fellows. He has made no progress in the re- 
finements of life. He is still one of a mighty brig- 
ade who will forever fill the dark basement of 
human life with blindness, ignorance, woe— until 


40 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

Society takes tlie child and makes the future man 
a possibility. 

Rap was gentle of speech to his mother, and 
obeyed with silent willingness. Her dream of bet- 
ter things for him, which had budded on the bor- 
der-land of pride, had mostly faded away as her 
hair silvered, and the boy approached the man in 
bodily development. 

But at this time an incident occurred which 
changed the current of their lives. It was not the 
bursting of some mighty ambition which would 
not be chained by Ignorance! It was an acci- 
dental thrusting of the boy-life before the great 
man-life — the clod-life before the beauty -life — 
opening by Chance the mighty Dortals of the 
Avenue of Effort— gates which Society should 
ever keep ajar, and even thrust the youthful trav- 
ellers within. Rap’s deitv was Chance. Chance 
took him fiercely by the hand. He was standing 
upon a platform at the summit of the furnace 
cupola or tower, where he could look down upon 
the boiling, molten iron. We are not familiar 
with the work of the foundry, but will relate the 
circumstance as it comes to our memory. Over 
the platform upon which Rap McKenzie stood, 
say four feet above, was a narrow plank tramway, 
upon which a car was drawn by chains, for the 
purpose of dumping scrap-iron into the furnace 
below. 

The furnace top, at the summit of the cupola, 
was open, and the molten, violet-hot contents 
below were exposed to view. Upon the extreme 
end of the tramway, above where Rap stood, 
were the superintendent, a Mr. Roberts, and a Mr. 


CLOD AND MILLIONAIRE. 


41 


Telford Knox, the two latter gentlemen little reck- 
ing* that so much of their own destiny lay wrapt 
within the unobserved and unobserving face be- 
neath them. 

Telford Knox was one of the wealthiest men 
of New York, several times a millionaire, and a 
power in the city and state politics. Mr. Roberts 
was a young* man scarcely known at that time, 
but afterwards one of the prominent financiers of 
this country. The two men were organizing a 
manufacturing and land syndicate at Poolville, 
and at this moment were observing the processes 
of the foundry work. Mr. Knox was a man of re- 
markable tact and judgment, and decision of 
character; finely built, splendidly educated. At 
this time he was about forty years of age. He 
approached the Chesterfieldian model in courtesy 
and social culture. His smile was always ready 
and natural, his mouth of Grecian mould, par- 
tially hidden by a dark beard and mustache; his 
hand shapely, and absolutely free from jewelry, 
as was his well-dressed person. 

As these three men turned upon that upper 
tramway, to leave the cupola, the tram-chains 
were rattled at the feet of Mr. Knox, by some 
laborer below . Thinking that perhaps the tram- 
car was about to move, and his mind pre-occu- 
pied, he took a backward step— with his back to 
that dangerous extremity! That step was safe. 
But he took another! Millions in bank, and 
vaults loaded with securities, were of no avail 
now! Down he plunged, and beneath him that 
fearful mass of fiery fluid ! 

Gravity draws down the purple-blooded as it 


42 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


would the baser elements of earth — relentless, re- 
morseless. 

The poor millionaire uttered no cry — the hot 
breath of the pit surged up as if to quiet con- 
sciousness before he felt a pain — and across his 
vision within there rested the dear face of a beau- 
tiful girl, who whispered, “Father,” and disap- 
peared. 

The superintendent saw it all — and tried in 
vain to shriek ; the throat refused, palsied with 
terror — and his mouth gasped, noiseless! 

Roberts stood motionless on the tramw r ay. 

Rap McKenzie stood upon the summit-plat- 
form, a few feet below the tramway. He saw the 
first backward step, and a powerful pressure 
moved within his dormant brain, as if to think 
beyond — to dreadful possibilities. He saw the sec- 
ond step the plunge! Not a muscle moved 

upon his broad, passionless face as he looked on 
the horror. His immobile mind awakened, as it 
seemed to him, with such horrible sluggishness ! 

In that terrible half-second, when the toppling 
form seemed but balanced over the seething maw 
of hell, the youth struck his breast savagely, as if 
to drive Thought into the webby caverns of an 
unlighted brain ! — and he leaped blindly, without 
waiting for the flash of Purpose! 

It was now two lives instead of one— the mil- 
lionaire and the clod — they struck a balance and 
were quits upon the ledger. The boy thought his 
mind was slow — but it had moved without him! 
What mortal dream could flash athwart a con- 
scious mind to thrust him against that million- 
aire, already in the jaws of destruction? 


CLOD AND MILLIONAIRE. 


43 


Why moralize on the deed— and at such a 
time? 

Because there was method in the madness! 
The giant body of the youth struck the million- 
aire with tremendous force, and dashed it against 
the upper rim on the other side of the crater-like 
opening— and he tumbled headlong down the out- 
side, to the earth twenty-five feet below. 

But the shock destroyed the impetus of the 
boy’s body — and to the horror of the observers, 
he fell inside the cupola!— his eyes bursting from 
their sockets and his face convulsed with sudden 
anguish! One hand grasped for the clothing of 
the millionaire, but too late ! 

The other hand reached the smooth brick sur- 
face of the summit wall— and for an instant 
stayed his fall, and then slipped along to death ! 
But with a mighty shock of his limbs and a swing 
of his other arm, in that one slow second, he 
brought his other hand upon the upper surface 
and stayed the fall. It was a fearful moment, in 
which the sweat of agony started upon every 
face ! Thank God, it was in time !— with a struggle 
born of Hope, wrestling with despair, the young 
giant’s bodv was writhed upward, and plunging 
out of the crater, followed Telford Knox to the 
ground below. 

The millionaire was unhurt ; the boy was pick*: 
ed up unconscious and with a broken limb. 


44 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER III. 


IT IS WISDOM TO KNOW OUR IGNORANCE. 

It is difficult to wholly conquer the Devil that 
hides in our breast in this selfish world. He will 
even manifest his presence when we are startled 
by a heroism unsurpassed in sacrificial exploits. 
Thus, in the fateful moment of the fall, in the 
midst of so sublime an action, Mr. Roberts, the 
companion of Mr. Knox, rejoiced at the preser- 
vation of the millionaire, but scarcely thought of 
the fate of the Clod. Such extremely heartless 
men are rare indeed. When he heard the story of 
the deed repeated from mouth to mouth, until by 
general consent the great factory ceased its busy 
hum, and hundreds poured fourth to bless the 
brave youth, and to pray for him in broken 
voices, and offer aid, this singular cynic observed, 

“Oh well, he will get his reward !” 

And thus the world began to put the matter, 
and will so long as the Clods exist. Every one knew 
of Knox, the financier. The world knew him. 
He was clothed with an intangible power, born of 
wealth, and kin to command. The world said 
that that fellow would not leap to death to res- 
cue Lazarus; but Dives— that was a different 
matter — there was the reward! It is an ingeni- 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


45 


ous little Devil — the shadow of the greater. And 
so we are driven by the philosophy of Lucifer to 
turn upon our hero and ask him if lie would have 
leaped over that furnace top for Limps y Simp- 
kins? 

Ah, the sister of Justice comes to the aid of 
our humble cavalier, and her whisper fills the 
heart of man; and on viewless wings, peri-like, 
fills the realm of God, “as far as the universe 
spreads her flaming wall!” 

“There is an unborn greatness even in the 
soul clothed with ignorance. It is delivered some- 
times by inspiration— never by sordid impulse.” 

McKenzie would righteously answer a call, 
first, to do a greater service to his race than a 
lesser — there being no knowledge of reward in 
either case. But the instant death of “Power” 
was a greater loss to the race than the loss of 
machinery. This is, perhaps, a “cruel righteous- 
ness.” The softening of its cruelty is by leaving 
no human machines without the “power”— in- 
telligence. McKenzie thought nothing of reward 
in that imperious instant. 

Rap lay many weeks in bed, attended by his 
gentle mother, and she was sustained by a thou- 
sand loving hearts — those who had heard of his 
brave deed. When barely recovered he walked 
over to the factory on a pair of crutches. It was 
a beautiful afternoon, and he shook the hand of 
many on the way, with silent wonder at the 
change in his reception. He found Mr. Laird, 
and inquired if his place were open for him to be- 
gin work again ? 

“Never sir.” 


4(5 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“ Another man got the job, I suppose/’ sober- 
ly observed the boy. 

“Yes sir, and he’s going to keep it too,” said 
Laird, gruffly. 

“That’s too bad sir,” returned Rap, in a pas- 
sionless tone. 

“Yes, it’s a cold world, aint it Rap?” 

“It are sir— and winter’s cornin’ on too, sir. 
I reckon the garden truck is a’most in though.” 

Laird looked at the simple-minded giant, now 
many shades thinner than two months before. 
“Well, its worse than 1 thought,” he said to him- 
self. “Education would be wasted on him!” 
How little we know of the gigantic powers that 
sleep in life and perish in death, all for the want 
of an awakening upon the part of Society. 

“I’ll hev a monstrus doctor’s bill to pay ” 

“Will you?” said Laird. 

“Yes, them chaps isn’t workin’ fer naw thin.” 

“Young man, how old are you?” asked 
Laird. 

“Eighteen, sir.” 

“Indeed, I took you for six.” 

“Why sir?” asked the boy, a trifle shady. 

“Do you know who your doctor is?” 

“A big gun of a doctor from the city, sir— 
that Mr. Knox sent. I s’pose he reckoned he 
wouldn’t charge as much to the likes o’ me.” 

“He charges $50* a visit, Rap, but I suppose 
that he will come down to $49 in your case.” 
Laird looked at the unperturbed innocent before 
him, hardly able to repress a grin. 

“Well, he’ll be an old man when he gits hisi 
pay,” said the boy. 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 47 

“I guess not. He’s paid already. Don’t you 
suppose Knox would pay him? Why, lad, Knox 
is worth millions, millions, my boy!” 

“Millions is a good deal, isn’t it, Mr. Laird?” 

“Yes, it’s oceans of money, miles high.” 

Well, I hope he’ll pay the doctor then — fer it 
mought a ben his own leg or wuss.” 

“There comes the doctor and Mr. Knox too,” 
said Laird, nodding down the street. “They’ll 
break your other leg now, for coming over here.” 

Across the Poolville bridge, where in our open- 
ing chapter sat a lump of living clay, waiting for 
some tide of time to bear him out upon the ocean 
of humanity, drove a carriage, and therein two 
gentlemen, whose conversation was wholly and 
seriously occupied with that same child of Pov- 
erty and Nothingness. 

“Mr. Knox,” said the doctor, “it is singular, 
that you broad men, politicians, do not see that 
in such youths as this lie wonderful power — which 
it is Society’s duty to develop.” 

“And why our duty, when the flame of pow- 
er you speak of, if it really exist, will burn its 
own way through the crust, and the man become 
a self-made character?” 

“You make two statements,” replied the doc- 
tor, “which the truth will not sustain, to my way' 
of thinking. First, the possibilities of power in 
the neglected child of neglectful or ignorant 
parents are not ‘flames.’ You imagine a flame 
of ambition may be burning in this boy’s animal 
nature! It is not so. The intellect is simply 
asleep. You picture a darkened, imprisoned soul 
beating against the walls of Ignorance. Now 


48 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


the darkened soul is doing no beating. Society 
is a prison and the soul a prisoner by neglect. 
The soul or intellect has every power, of the high- 
est order, through every avenue of possible great- 
ness, but it is clothed with animal nature. Ig- 
norance is not a want of power— it is a want of 
the knowledge of power. You have studied 
mental philosophv in earlier days?” 

“Yes.” 

“And have read Plato?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you understand me?” 

“I do,” said Mr. Knox thoughtfully. 

“Then, why should you politicians war in 
everlasting and almost disgraceful contention for 
personal and temporal advantages, when a world 
steeped in animal shame, Ignorance, appeals to 
Society for the development of power in hu- 
manity?” 

“With what result?” asked Knox. 

“If 'a thousand men, by knowledge of forces, 
natural and intellectual, have builded our civil- 
ization to what it is, what a civilization and what 
a glory would follow the development of all 
people to power and emprise!” And as the doc- 
tor said this, his face glowed with expectant 
fervor. 

“And who would do the scrub-work,” asked 
the doctor. 

“Machinery is now driving out the scrubbers. 
But sir, you mistake the working people.” 

“How?” 

“Why they are intelligent, reading, studious, 
in certain localities— and yet toil just the same!” 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


49 


“ Where is that Utopia ?” 

“1 came from the west,” replied the doctor, 
“five years ago — from the prairie states — a farm- 
er’s son. A wealthy man educated me. In that 
western country revolutions in public thought 
and in the higher elements of statecraft occur be- 
fore you city men dream of revolution !” 

“What, cow-boy statesmen?” said Knox, 
with a smile. 

“Cowboys are an extremelv western develop- 
ment, and a sort of myth, anyway. But I will 
tell you what I knew the editor of a farmer’s 
paper to do once. He was talking with a high 
public functionary in the city of St. Paul. The 
pub. func. remarked that the farmers could 
inaugurate a wonderful revolution in politics 
if they were only posted! ‘Well,’ said the editor, 
‘you put up one hundred dollars, and I will do 
the same. We will sally out into the city streets, 
and ask who our congressman is— of the first one 
hundred voters we meet. If three out of one 
hundred can answer correctly, you take the $ 200. 
If not, I take it. Then we will go down to the 
village of Glencoe, hire a horse and buggy, and 
sail out into the farmers’ kingdom. If, out of 
the first one hundred actual, home-owning, land- 
working farmers, more than three do not know 
w 7 ho their congressman is, you take the wager, 
otherwise I take it? ‘Bless me,’ said the state 
official, ‘I don’t know who he is myself!’ The 
fact is, Mr. Knox, there never was a great move- 
ment for humanity, in all history, that the 
agricultural toiler does not come thundering at 
the gates of the cities— to overcome our blind- 


50 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

ness and ignorance. We think we know it all. 
Revolutions are the result of our vanity.” 

“But we use the laboring man here by means 
of their ‘intelligent leaders.’ ” 

“But in another generation those leaders will 
hang on the lamp posts. Rome and France re- 
peat the story.” 

“Well, doctor, there is the scamp we’re look- 
ing after, over yonder; we will have to end our 
diseussion.” 

“Yes, and he ought to be sick a month long- 
er for being out today.” 

At this time the two gentlemen drove up to 
the youth. They brought him home and chided 
the mother for letting him out so soon. 

“It was me, doctor, that stole out— I wanted' 
Mr. Laird to keep my job for me. But it’s gone, 
and I won’t git it agin.” 

There was a long talk. The sturdv boy be- 
trayed his hopeless ignorance full oft, although 
endowed with fair common sense. Much to the 
wonder of Mr. Knox, he found that his full first 
name was Raphael— and he thereafter called him 
by that ill-fitting but more musical title. 

He made the boy a direct offer to start him 
in business, either in city or village— at which the 
Doctor looked up and smiled, and turned to the 
boy with deep interest. 

“1 don’t want that, sir, thankin’ ye sir,” said 
the boy. 

“Certainly you do. You are young yet. 
You will have to go into some other business- 
place first, of course.” % 

“No,” answered the boy slowly. “I don’t 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


51 


want it. I am wanting somewhat of other 
things. Mr. Knox I am not knowin’ enough.” 
His head sank upon his broad chest, and he 
heaved a great sigh, which escaped him with an 
audible groan. Then his mother came and sat 
by him, as if to protect a helpless child! “I beg 
pardon, gentlemen, I was thinkin’— I mean I was 
try in’ to think.” 

There was silence for a time. Sure enough 
the boy was “thinking.” His undreaming mind 
began to slowly turn and turn again, and un- 
wind the skein of an infinite consciousness. The 
doctor pretended to read in his note book. The 
millionaire was gazing out of the window. His 
mother — well, that mother had seen changes 
come over her great boy. Sickness had thinned 
him, and taken from him that sensuous look. 
To her he seemed more a man. His eyes were 
brighter, his brow whiter, his few words clearer. 
In her eves there was a great apotheosis ; and 
now she saw what education would have done 
for her boy. A mighty hope sprang from the 
grave where her heart had rested. 

“Mr. Knox, the trouble with me is, I don’t 
know much ; I was a bad boy. I want to be rea- 
sonin’ now, on mother’s account. She was of the 
good sort — high kind. Here’s this two acres of 
land ; I s’pose it’s worth three thousand dollars, 
now your sindikut has come in. If your company 
will take it I’ll study— an’ work part of the time- 
only my job is taken.” 

The two men smiled. The mother withdrew, 
for the tears crept out upon her cheek, and fell to 


4 


52 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

the earth. There was a bud blossoming in her 
heart. 

Bap saw the smile of the men, and did not 
understand it. 

“Raphael,” said Mr. Knox, “Yon shall not 
sell your land. It will be worth fifty thousand in 
time. I appreciate what you say, and you are 
right. You do not need a gift from me. But for 
your mother’s sake you will let me help you by a 
plan I will prepare, and come to you again. In 
the meantime seek no work. When ready for it 
you will have it.” 

Rap understood that. 

The two men withdrew. Rap went to his 
mother — silently put his strong arms about her, 
and for the first time in his recollection, kissed 
her lips. 

“Mother, I understand it now — I wont have 
to wander in the fields any more.” 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


53 


CHAPTER IV. 


SHE HAD HER DREAMLAND PICTURE. 

Every life is interesting’, and so was Rap Mc- 
Kenzie’s during the following seven years. 

He is now twenty-five years of age. Few in- 
deed the philosophers who would discover in this 
educated, confident and strong young man, in 
full tide of an active business life, the lump upon 
the bridge, or the clod of the cupola. 

He was a civil engineer by profession, and a 
heavy contractor the first year of his business life 
through the friendship of Telford Knox. Meas- 
ure, if thou canst, oh man, the dreadful loss 
to the world, of power and of genius, by 
the life of clods who find no gateways of hero- 
ism through which to draw the Promethean fire ! 

Within a year of his entrance upon a business 
life he struck out boldly to organize the corporate 
machinery through which to construct the most 
gigantic enterprises of the day. He was even 
more active in his concentration of energies 
than his friend and tutor, Telford Knox. 

The two men were seldom together now. The 
younger had passed the threshhold of the home 
of the elder but few times during the recent two 
years, and then only because of a little waif Rap 
had gathered out of the slums, and plaeed in 
charge of the housekeeper: and twice he had cal- 
led to see how the child was getting along. 


54 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

| Mr. Knox was a widower. He had a daugh- 
ter Marian, but she had been away to boarding 
school part of the time before her mother’s death ; 
and since then she had been attending one of the 
prominent colleges for young women. She had 
now been at home for three or four months, and 
w T as entering with great enthusiasm into the de- 
tails of her father’s vast business, much to her 
parent’s delight. 

Raphael McKenzie had never met this daugh- 
ter Marian. He was a terrific worker, and never 
entered society, nor had he ever dreamed of Mar- 
ian as in any way associated with his life or wel- 
fare. It was not so with Marian, however. 

One day, before McKenzie had completed his 
studies, he was in the city, and in passing down 
Broadway noticed one of the frequent “jams” of 
teams at a crossing. A buggy containing two 
young ladies was in danger of being crushed. He 
sprang into the midst of the street, siezed a team 
of horses by the bits, and with his giant strength 
threw them on their haunches. A policeman soon 
relieved him, and he turned to see the young 
women. There was one fair face that seemed the 
reality of some dream. Even her voice, in thanks 
for his aid, echoed down through the deserted 
avenues of the past, but found no response. He 
turned to see the face again— it was too late. 
And that imagery of a picture refused to mater- 
ialize, though retraced for months. 

He had seen Marian Knox, and the trouble 
with that delicate tracery in the prison-cells of his 
forgetfulness was that it was not the first time 
he had seen her. When Marian saw that great 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 55 

bio* giant of a man rush to her assistance, she was 
of course courteously grateful and said as much 
to him. To her discomfort the young man stared 
at her. And, singular as it may seem, the young 
lady rather enjoyed the discomfort — inasmuch as 
he seemed ashamed of his impertinence when he 
suddenly wheeled around and dashed into the 
crowd. 

Like most girls, Marian had her little gallery 
of heroes in her heart, and princely among those 
statuesque inhabitants of the sacred cloister, was 
the figure of a boy-man plucking her father from 
the fiery jaws of an iron monster. Away back, 
among the almost forgotten relics of the yester- 
days, lay the lump on the bridge— but not as a 
divinity! In secret worship, Raphael McKenzie 
was the hero of her school romance. 

At this time, she is twenty years of age — gen- 
tle, mature, loveable, and wise. She had not giv- 
en up her dreamland picture of the foundry lad, 
however, in her wisdom — though she laughed at 
her Apollb, grown up, as in the drapery of a lad ! 
She reasoned that he was in a world of his own, 
and probably his world and hers might not com- 
municate. 

Of course Marian could not weigh the effect 
of her own beauty and disposition ; and it never 
occurred to her, as she gradually lost the color of 
her imagery, that her intelligence and grace 
might make a profound impression upon him! 
In outgrowing her childish dreams she had out- 
grown the childish face and form ; but the sun- 
shine remained like the vanishing image of a love 
that had passed away— reaching tiny tendrils 


56 


HER DREAMLAND PICTURE. 


from the grave of memory to the window of an- 
other life. 

Marian was a “mother’s girl,” who “loved 
her father best.” 

She was lithe, and light, and sunny, and 
laughed easily. As for tears, well — a girl who 
couldn’t cry couldn’t eat! We remember her 
now, like as a storied fairy love dwelling in the 
heart of childhood. 

She is now a frequent attendant upon 
’Change, in the gallery, and we are afraid that 
some of the younger operators forgot Chesa- 
peake & Ohio and Erie, in their too close atten- 
tion to the alcove, where she reigned in that 
upper realm, and followed every motion of her 
father on the floor below. She was in the gallery 
on the day when Transcontinental stock was first 
heavd on ’Change, and she was curious to know 
the standing of the organization ; for her father 
had told her that “young McKenzie had launched 
a corporation of stupendous magnitude on the 
world.” It was known by the name of “The 
Transcontinental Construction Company,” and 
its work was the construction of railway lines, 
and taking contracts of vast national character 
on sea or land. 

McKenzie himself was rarely on the floor of 
the Exchange. But they were sure to meet some- 
time in the near future, for Mr. Knox had quite 
an interest in Transcon, as the stock was called. 

It is very trying for the historian to have to 
introduce two of his most amiable characters in 
an old fashioned, prosaic manner, when runa- 
way horses and railway collisions are so frequent. 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 57 

If there is any unusual delay in the matter of 
their meeting, it is barely possible that Marian 
talked to her father of “Raphael” a good deal of 
late— and the father was just then wonderfully 
interested in another man. 

This other man was Mr. Julius Roberts, 
whom we have met before, and who now is no less 
a public functionary than the Assistant Secretary 
of the United States Treasury. 


CHAPTER V. 

TRANSCONTINENTAL. 

One afternoon in Spring, when the sun had 
warmed the earth with generous glow, Marian 
Knox stood at a window of the reception room, 
trimming a house plant, with whose rhododen- 
dric genealogy we are unacquainted. Nature 
breathed the spirit of germ theory, for all life was 
bursting into gentle activity and the robins were 
nesting in the maples. But Marian was neither 
plant nor bird— and her dreams at that moment 
were as to her duties to her father in relieving him 
of some of the tremendous labor involved in the 
care of his vast properties. 

The bell rang, and a little maid, who seemed 
to have but little fear of her mistress, skipped 
through the reception room to the door. 

“Ah, you little hoodoo,” she heard a strange 


58 


TRANSCONTINENTAL. 


voice say to the child, “come out from behind 
that door, or I’ll have you tied to the gate post ” 
But the child did not seem to fear, for she laugh- 
ed and tugged at his hand. 

“Is your mistress at home?” he asked. 

“Yes, yes, yes; I’ll ask her and see what she 
says about it.” 

“Give her this note from her father,” he said 
in a pleasant but masterful voice. 

“I won’t have to go far,” replied the bold lit- 
tle vixen, “will I Miss Marian?” she continued, 
standing in the doorway. 

“Lulu, behave yourself, and ask the gentle- 
man in. How can you be so rude?” 

“Come in, stranger,” said the child, courtesy- 
ing very formally, “for Miss Marian is at home.” 

Raphael McKenzie came into the room, and 
took a seat, as indicated gracefully bv the 
daughter of the great capitalist. He did not 
raise his eyes to her until he was seated. But she 
instantly recognised in him the stalwart stranger 
whom she had seen upon the Board the day be- 
fore — and who caused her to plough up several 
acres of the past to locate the great beardless 
face. She smiled upon him so easily and fearless- 
ly that he was at his ease before he fairly looked 
into her eyes. But when he did a great luminous 
surprise shone all over his features. 

“This is Miss Knox,” he observed, “with 
whom I should have been acquainted long ago— 
for we have met before.” 

“I knew it sir,” she responded with unusual 
freedom. “I knew it when I saw you just at the 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


59 


close .yesterday, on ’Change. But you must help 
me with my memory.” 

“Did some loaded teams on Broadway once 
undertake to annihilate your frail phaeton?” 

“Oh yes; why of course— but it seems to me I 
have known you more than that! May I be so 
bold as to ask your name?” 

“Perhaps it is in the note,” he suggested, with 
a puzzling expression on his face. 

“Dear me,” thought Marian, “he must be the 
Prince of Goo-goo!” 

So she tore open the note and read : 

“Dear Daughter:— Will you kindly hand to 
the bearer the plat of the Poolville syndicate, ly- 
ing on the table in my room. The bearer is Mr 
Kaphael McKenzie.” K. 

She started with great surprise, dropped her 
hands to her side, and gazed upon the young man 
a second before she spoke. 

But a world could be blown up in a second ! 
We had observed that the zephyrs of the feverish 
Springtide had not fanned fair Marian’s cheek. 
But now there was a full summer flush upon her 
face. “And this is my hero,” she thought, meet- 
ing his ready gaze. “I have known you for 
years — and I am so happy to know in you my 
Broadway giant!” she added with an arching 
of the eyebrows ! 

“I thank you for your kindness, Miss Knox ; I 
wish that I had known you before.” Her lithe 
little hand rested in his mighty grasp with un- 
wonted confidence, and asked for no excuse. 

“It seems to me now, sir, that I would know 
you if papa had not written the note.” 


60 


HER DREAMLAND PICTURE. 


“I was sure that I recognized you on Broad- 
way that day of the adventure,” he returned, with 
a smile. She looked at him very reprovingly 
then, and observed with mock anger, “Ah, sir, 
you were impertinent — yon stared! — but I shall 
forgive you.” 

“I do not deserve your kindness,” he 
responded. 

“Deserve it, sir! Do not force me to express 
all 1 feel— have felt for years. Is it not enough 
sir, that I have a loving father and — ” 

“There, Miss Knox, do not struggle to tell 
the story ! 1 know that we shall have a high re- 
gard for each other.” 

“Oh yes, indeed we shall; and Mr. McKenzie, 
I will begin now by asking you to call me Miss 
Marian and not Miss Knox!” 

“May I begin so soon?” 

“Yes sir ; and now will you drive me down to 
papa’s office in your carriage?” 

While she was gone for the document, Ra- 
phael tried again to reach back into the mists of 
the years, and resurrect a dream which at some 
time had been a light to his soul. But the fan- 
ciful dream was too far removed. One thought 
came to him, and found expression : 

“I am highly favored.” 

Ah, Raphael, look well to your thoughts— 
many men have lingered upon that smile and 
gentle word and fallen deep into the gulf of 
love! 

She came through the hall with a lightsome 
step, and together they passed to the carriage. 

“Tell me about your great corporation, the 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


61 


Transcontinental,” she said, as they settled down 
for the drive. 

“Why, Miss Knox—” 

“Miss Marian, please.” 

“Miss Marian, I mean ; we have organized a 
construction company, capable of taking the larg- 
est contracts, to operate in almost every line of 
public work. Our capital is twenty millions, half 
paid in. We shall be powerful enough to sieze up- 
on great enterprises, and crush opposition. We 
will work in the interior of other companies by 
our heavy stockholders being scattered among 
the directorates of every large corporation.” 

“Is that a safe and wise thing for the people 
who are the ‘opposition?’” asked Marian, with a 
curious look at the author of the then audacious 
scheme. 

He was surprised at a question concerning 
the political morals of his companv from the 
lovely daughter of Millionaire Knox, and she al- 
ready an amateur operator on the Stock Board ! 

“Miss Marian, it is not wise, nor safe, nor 
just. Had the government under which I was 
thrust into existence given me a chance to com- 
pete except by accident or piracy, I would take 
my lot with loftier purpose.” 

“You are thinking of your earlier life,” said 
Marian in a low tone. 

“Yes, in a narrow sense; and of Lulu, snatched 
from the gutter— and of 250,000 children who 
never see a schoolroom or know an unselfish 
purpose!” 

“You are eloquent,” replied Marian, her eyes 
searching the face of the great man beside her. 


62 


TRANSCONTINENTAL. 


“But it is wasted. You can neither teach nor 
startle the people into a care for themselves. In 
fact there are no people — there are simply wild 
beasts of selfishness. He who goes among them 
in any other armor than cunning will be devoured 
before he leaves his cage.” 

“What a doctrine! Are not the people free — 
and do not they love the flag !” 

“The flag?” replied McKenzie. “Yes, Miss 
Marian, we teach them that — that is a piece of 
cloth in three colors. If they will only worship 
that we can trample on everything else.” 

“Then the Transcon. is one of the pictures of 
Despotism Destroying Liberty?” said Marian 
smiling at his spirit. 

“Yes, an element of destruction, probably. 
And the common people will encourage us if suc- 
cessful-curse us if a failure.” 

“Who is under it besides yourself?” 

“A large number of railway men, capitalists, 
and some speculators: mostly western and Pa- 
cific coast capital. Your father is in it to a very 
slight extent.” 

“He shall invest more— he shall have five 
thousand shares ! Y T ou can transfer them at once, 
and I will tell him what I have done.” He looked 
at her with a bewildered air. “Oh,” she said, 
“papa and I are partners. Is Vanderkill in?” 

“No, the natural bear avoids a real invest- 
ment — neither he nor Bearman are friendly — nor 
Roberts.” 

Marian thought a moment, and then asked, 
“Are you not afraid these powerful bears, wreck- 
ers, will attack you— it is their business?” 


TRANSCONTINENTAL. 


63 


am afraid. They are powerful foes. Are 
such men really useful to the Exchange ?” 

“No; they claim that every sale has a pur- 
chase, and therefore true values are generally 
maintained. But if a hundred wagons supposed 
to be loaded with pumpkins were to drive into 
Poolv ille in one day, and only six pumpkins could 
be sold, I don’t think it would keep up the price 
of pumpkins because there was a purchaser for 
each of those six ‘punkins’— do you?” 

“I think pumpkins would be very cheap in 
Poolville on that day.” 

“And if all these hundred wagons were cover- 
ed from sight ; and under the blankets of ninety- 
seven of the loads there were bogus pumpkins, 
wouldn’t the bogus loads hawked through the 
streets reduce the price as much per load of sup- 
ply as the genuine fruit?” 

“You are a philosopher,” replied McKenzie, 
a,nd I am afraid that they will blackball you if 
you ever apply for membership. Have you ever 
thought of the effect of these gambling exchanges 
on the common people?” 

“What common people?” she asked inno- 
cently. 

“Why, the great masses who make up the 
working populations of the globe.” 

“I really don’t know them,” she answered. “I 
have heard of them, and have read the statistics 
of population. But I really don’t know how they 
live.” 

“Nor what is their relation to us?” he added. 

“No, that branch of social science is all dark- 


64 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

ness to me,” she said, looking out upon the great 
temples of city trade. 

“Well,” suggested Raphael, “I know some- 
thing of them— for I was raised among the 
toilers.” 

“I suppose they are necessary to the world,” 
Marian slowly answered, “to furnish the work- 
ers— the builders.” 

“More than that,” replied Raphael. 

“How so?” 

“Because every dollar of wealth comes orig- 
inally from the soil,” he answered. “They are 
necessary to furnish us our wealth — for we create 
none ourselves!” — he added, with a touch of 
irony. 

“How about the man who built this car- 
riage — did not he create wealth?” she asked. 

“No, he simplv created the means of securing 
a share of the wealth already created from the 
soil. Supposing it had been a wagon— the wagon 
would have gone to the farmer — the grain of the 
farmer, or its value, would have gone from the 
farmer to the wagon-builder. The grocer or the 
school teacher afterwards may have received a 
portion of that same wealth in return for their 
services to the wagon builder.” 

“How about the shares in our companies on 
the Stock Exchange?” She was sure that he 
could not connect such property with toil, and her 
eyes “smiled” as did her very lips, with incipient 
triumph. 

“Ah, well,” he answered hesitatingly, “you 
see— well, such property is not wealth— it is— ” 

“Bogus!” shea ns wered promptly . 


TRANSCONTINENTAL. 


65 


“Exactly,” he replied. 

“Now, how can you demonstrate that?” 

“You see, Miss Marian, taking my company 
for example, a part of each share represents real 
money put in. One-fourth is real wealth, every 
dollar of which came from the soil. Three-fourths 
is fictitious and the fictitious draws income from 
real wealth, unto us, the same as the genuine one- 
fourth./ 

“Are all companies organized in that way?” 

“No, railway companies borrow on bonds 
all the wealth invested.” 

“And issue bonds and shares of stock at 
will?” asked Marian. 

“Yes— and then make or break the values on 
the exchanges.” 

“Then you, and papa, and Vanderkill, are 
all really bleeding the toilers?”, 

“Yes,” replied Kaphael, “we are all guilty. 
The people sustain our system— and it is fight or 
die under its rule.” 

“But,” said Marian, “Vanderkill and his fol- 
lowers are different from us?” 

“Yes, we are supposed to own our stock. 
Others only have a claim by putting up margins. 
They are professional wreckers. But we are all 
simply accumulating the wealth produced by 
others.” 

“Why do not the people rise up and prevent 
us from absorbing their wealth at will?” 

“They would have done so long ago, but a 
few of us practically own the entire press of the 
world ; all news and opinion is filtered through 
an organization called the Associated Press. 


66 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

Five men can muzzle every newspaper from sea to 
sea, in this country. We protejct our Biblical 
faith by such means — the good book says, unto 
him that hath shall be given — unto him that 
hath not shall be taken away even that he hath. 
On this basis, we create a banking system which 
compels all currency to be borrowed of us, and 
pay us tribute, before it can issue — and suborn 
the press to call it the ‘best banking system on 
earth!' ” 

“Why father is not poncerned in such work — 
that is wrong— it is an injustice, I am sure!” 
cried Marian. 

“It is wrong,” he stoutly answered— “our 
entire system of Society is wrong — but in the 
struggle for existence we are compelled to sieze 
every advantage. A ‘soul’ is not permitted in 
this day and generation. Your father probably 
knows little of the press control. Neither do I, 
except as to the fact. By the way, what kind of 
a man is this Vanderkill?” 

“He is practically the king of the Exchange. 
I hope you will make friends with him — you re- 
member what the Bible says about the mammon 
of unrighteousness.” 

McKenzie looked looked earnestly into her 
face, but her eyes were averted. 

“He has a very promising son, has he not?” 
He said that as one of those childish subterfuges 
which men will resort to in that weakest of all 
moments in a strong man’s life — when he is dying 
for the love of a sweet woman! Then Marian 
looked into his eyes and smiled in mockery— and 
he looked into her eyes and smiled in the sunlight 


TRANSCONTINENTAL. 


67 


of her intelligence. Then she was tempted to 
coquetry — and with any other man would have 
done credit to the powers of her sex. But she 
said unto herself, “No, this is an earnest man; he 
shall have his silent question answered.” 

And so she proceeded at once to— mystify 
him ! 

“I do not like the elder Yanderkill very well.” 

The “elder,” thought he — then she does like 
the junior. “Why don’t you like the elder? I 
think I would keep on the right side of the elder,” 
he suggested with more boldness than prudence. 

She might have felt hurt at the liberty of this 
speech, but she did not want to take offense— 
and she did not. And her only answer was a low- 
voiced “Because.” 

“Because?” he responded, seemingly bent on 
a quarrel! 

“Because, Mr. McKenzie, I like you very much; 
I shall feel interested in every step of your life. I 
couldn’t help this if I wished to, and I do not wish 
to. These men are dangerous foes to have on 
’Change.” 

“Is that— ” But he thought better and 
changed the sentence. “No other reason, Miss 
Marian?” 

“No other reason that I can tell,” she ans- 
wered frankly, wondering how far the young man 
would carry his curiosity ! 

“Ah. but the reasons we cannot tell!” And 
then he wanted to take himself out by the nap 
of the neck and duck himself in the first goose- 
pond he could find— had there been other geese in 
the city. 


68 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

She turned half around in the seat, and tried 
to look the bold fellow in the face, but he would 
not submit— and gazed afar off, at the spire of a 
church. 

What multitudes of little “ actings” we per- 
form to hide a feeling — aye, by a cough, a laugh, 
a lullaby— but the feelings are not hidden. 

“You surmise too much, Mr. McKenzie. ,, 

“Really, Miss Knox— ” 

“Miss Marian, please!” she interrupted. 

“Yes, Miss Marian, I am impertinent to sur- 
mise at all.” 

“But you surmise wrong, as men always do.” 

Although this was the first time they had met 
he was about to plunge headlong into some folly 
about his happiness at the discovery that the 
junior Vanderkill had not made himself indispens- 
able to Miss Knox. It would probably have been 
more disastrous than his first essav at love-fenc- 
ing. But they drove immediately into the pres- 
ence of the father, and Marian was transferred to 
the family carriage. 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER V I. 


HOTTER THAN FURNACE FIRE. 

Marian at once began to question her father 
about Transcontinental, but he was moody, and 
she soon discovered the cause for so unusual a 
condition of his mind. 

“Marian, did you ever speak of McKenzie and 
the cupola incident to Mr. Roberts, lulius?” add- 
ing the Christian name in a very family-like tone ? 

“Oh yes, papa, many times— I think it wor- 
ries the gentleman, and then I keep it up with 
great perseverance.” 

“Yes,” responded the parent in a solemn 
drawl. “You doubtless did the young man 
justice.” 

“I tried to, papa, but Mr. Roberts and Mr. 
Vanderkill, both, managed to get away from me, 
before I had near finished. I think he is splen- 
did!” If the father could read his daughter 
he had a reason for the smile that twisted one 
corner of his handsome mouth. 

“Well daughter, they evidently misunderstood 
you— for Vanderkill fears fchat you have fallen in 
love with the young plebeian.” 

“Indeed,” she replied, “that would be 
dreadful!” 

“Yes, dear daughter,” responded the parent, 
wholly blind to the spirit of the girl. 


70 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“Pa/pa, I did not mean that falling: in love 
with Mr. McKenzie would be dreadful ; that would 
be delicious. But to think of Mr. Yanderkill be- 
ing afraid of it — oh, that would be very horrible !” 

“Marian, sarcasm in you is something new.” 

“But father, 1 have never met Mr. McKenzie 
until today,— and — ” 

“I understand you, dear. Now, of course you 
will not be so enthusiastic about him. Mr. Yan- 
derkill is too powerful a man to trifle with. If we 
hang well together the United States Treasury 
will conform its money views to our own. If you 
could like Julius Roberts well enough to unite our 
two interests, with Y an and bold operators like 
Bearman, we could rule the finances of the coun- 
try independent of the European Hebrew.” 

“But papa,” suggested the wise daughter, 
“any one of them may be peddling pins within a 
week. And they would wreck you tomorrow, as 
they did Siegland, if they could get the call upon 
you.” 

“It is always a battle with the strong, my 
dear.” 

“But’ none of these men are so strong as you 
are, papa, with your actual property — and the 
turn of a tide may sweep them out — and the 
McKenzies in! When does Mr. Robert’s sister 
come?” 

“I do not know. Now about transcontinen- 
tal — I have so much interest in the young man 
that I do not wish to see these powerful men crush 
him. If Roberts wishes he can do it.” 

“And he would?— to advance his interests?” 
she questioned. 


HOTTER THAN FURNACE FIRE. 


71 


“Certainly.” 

“Where does love find a resting place in such 
a world of selfishness?” inquired the girl, coldly. 

“Love?” repeated the father. “Roberts loves 
you, and thinks, very foolishly, that McKenzie 
stands in his way.” 

“But papa, suppose that I do love this plebi- 
an, McKenzie, and at this very first meeting?” 

Having seen him but once,” remarked the pa- 
rent with a smile. 

“i have seen him a thousand times in my 
dreams, and they were true to the life. I can ad- 
mire him, to say the least. He is no common 
man.” 

“Could my wise, cultured, noble, beautiful 
Marian thus lightly throw her life to an adven- 
turer— a man with good qualities, but no 
history?” 

“Last week, father, you said he was a 
Napoleon!” 

“But in how short a time was Napoleon 
overthrown !” 

“But his dynasty rules today !” 

“McKenzie is of too common material for 
my splendid daughter.” 

“Papa!” 

“Do not be frightened. I love vou dearly. 
Yon are not serious. I am afraid that within 
three months this gigantic scheme will crumble 
and McKenzie be a beggar— with all his courage 
and heroism 1” 

“Not while my father and his daughter live.” 

“Your father would be helpless to save him.” 


72 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

4 ‘Will this assault on the Transcontinental 
come at once?” asked the daughter. 

“No, but it will come, and with tremendous 
power.” 

“Perhaps you are right in regard to McKen- 
zie,” slowly spoke the girl, with a mystery in her 
eyes. “I suppose the fire of the Exchange is hot- 
ter than furnace fires !” 

“It may be, but you can quench that fire if you 
wish dear— and repay the debt.” 

“Yes, I can save him,” mused the heroine, 
“and I shall undertake to do so.” 

“Now my noble Marian speaks,” said the 
proud but deceived father. 

But Marian was of solemn countenance — 
there was a sudden pain in her heart. “I know 
not if he loves me ! Ah, I will not save him for a 
reward, but will imitate his glorious example— my 
father’s daughter will pay the debt!” 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


7a 


CHAPTER VII. 


“COME ON IF YOU dare!” 

Bertha Reynolds had drifted to the city by 
that magnetism of misfortune which draws thou- 
sands and countless thousands from their pro- 
vincial homes. They come and struggle in the 
mighty maelstrom, and of those who are engulfed 
few are thrown out of the whirlpool alive. 
Bertha’s story was more than usually tragic. 

She was reared in a deeply religious home, 
over which reigned a purity of thought and sim- 
plicity of manner, which would naturally develop 
the noblest type of womanhood. Her father was 
a classical student, of retiring disposition, whose 
world of information, even in the darkest chan- 
nels of scholarly exploration, was nowhere reflect- 
ed save on the singularly apt mind of this much- 
loved but wierd daughter. 

One would naturally look forward to a peace- 
ful and equable, as well as winsome, disposition, 
and a development of rustic virtues, in a child 
reared in such a home. An elder brother of fair 
abilities ; a gentle sister of gentle heart ; a good 
mother, who prayed at night over the modest bed 
of her children ; an honest and worthy father— 
these were her home associations. 

A splendid public school gave her a prepara- 
tory and fundamental education— upon which she 


74 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

builded a classic structure of her own ; all enriched 
by her unnatural thirst for the curious schol- 
asticism of her student father, whose researches 
were a deep mine, from which the child would 
draw treasures untold. In later girlhood the 
gifted daughter was sent to an elegant boarding 
school, at great sacrifice, where she appeared as a 
village Hypatia! 

Bertha was not the soft and yielding wax to 
be shapen in the mould of circumstance. She was 
a sharp, beautiful, brilliant, quartz crystal, with 
intense angles and flashing reflection, and lu- 
minous centre. Bright and lustrous, but dark 
and olive, as if a drop or two of Abrahamic blood 
had lost its channel through all the centuries, 
and then had been caught up in her rich veins. 
As the quartz loses its brilliance by crushing, and 
its opalescence, so the girl seemed too “crystal 
line” to submit to pressure, and she grew' up free 
to impulse. 

If, in the lines of sadness which may cross her 
life, when the reader hopes for better things — as 
Bertha sighs for the light of a so-long-ago 
yesterday— you see the sweetness lost and the 
crystal crushed, let the benediction of a tear fall 
upon the fragments — whose lustre was once 
precious even unto the angels ! 

A tear forever shed— a prayer forever said — 
for the gifted, the wonderful, the mysterious, the 
hvayward meteor, that flashed upon the vast 
vault of Hope, in a happy home— and expired be- 
hind the clouds where mortal ken could only love 
in silent, sightless memory ! 

Singular child ! Her thoughts, even to the 


“COME ON IF YOU DARE! 


75 


last, seemed borne upon the wing — and yet sailed 
above and beyond her mates, as an albatross 
weariless sails the ether sea. Often sluggishly 1 re- 
fusing duty, her mind would fly off into wild 
channels, even into forbidden realms — startling 
her grave seniors with levity— or paralyzing with 
profundity. Ever the unexpected ! 

She was a puzzle to her neighbors ; a mystery 
to her parents ; a charm to her brother and sis- 
ter; an anxiety to her teachers! Yes, an anx- 
iety ; but when that teacher was sorest tried with 
unseen misdeeds, it was Bertha Reynolds who 
knew the sorrow at the heart; and perchance, 
right in the midst of the quiet school, she would 
fling a pair of loving arms around the teacher’s 
neck, and talk sweetly to her till eyes were moist 
with tears, and then say, “Come, lei us cry to- 
gether!” — a proposition not found in algebra, nor 
even in the mystic seer glyphs of her father. 

Willful? Yes, to an extraordinary degree— 
and daring to an extent that exceeded reckless- 
ness. 

One night, close to midnight, an under teacher 
or monitor found her loitering in a hall— a forbid- 
den hour and place for her. She was probably 
concocting some mischief for the other girls ! De- 
tected, the monitor expected her to rush up, with 
a piteous tale of toothache, or other convenient 
malady, and claim to be after some one’s power- 
ful pain-annihilator ! But she did not— nor even 
draw back into deeper recesses. She lifted her 
hand in the glimmering light, to beckon on the 
monitor, and cried loudly enough to waken the 
whole school : — 


7<i THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“Come on, Connelly! Come on if you dare!” 

And then, with an impetuosity that defied 
pursuit, she darted to the end of the hall- 
plunged through an open window— and tumbled 
headlong into a trellis, ten feet below. The trellis 
was of course demolished, but the life of the girl 
was saved. 

And then, two days later, the lady principal 
came to chide or punish the guilty girl. Bertha 
received her on the bed with an angel’s beauty, 
love and sweetness. Before the principal could 
utter the first word the wayward child had 
drowned all words in kisses and tears, for the 
grateful and tender “sympathy” of her teacher. 
The lady-principal lay upon the bed, the prisoner 
of a wealth of soft dark hair and intertangled 
arms! 

But this would not answer for the dignified 
head of the school, though she had never been so 
happy in her life ! 

With a voice tremulous in its crippled stern- 
ness, she said : 

“Bertha, how can you be so awful bad?” 

Turning her great dark eyes to the good 
woman, she said, with a smile in the midst of a 
shower, “Because— because the rest of you are so 
awful good!” And then the teacher’s heart 
bounded out of paradise into heaven. But she 
held the keys to the gate until she could ask the 
angels what a good woman, who wanted to do 
her duty, and wanted to love too, should do un- 
der such circumstances ? 

And the angels told her to do nothing. And 
she did it. 


“COME ON IF YOU DARE!” 77 

But by and by she began to theorize with the 
strange girl. “Why dear Bertha, you might have 
been killed 

“I thought of that, darlimg,” replied the pu- 
pil, tightening her arms— “just as I struck the 
trellis.’’ By this time she had drawn a pencil out 
of the teacher’s hair, and was industriously black- 
ing one of her finger-nails, but without letting up 
her grip with the other arm ! 

“It was then, dear, that I learned my philos- 
ophy lesson on the unknowable.” 

“You found out, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, love, but I had to jump out to find out!” 
“Say, teacher, don’t you think that that is the 
way all philosophers do when they get into a 
dark passage?” 

“Philosophers,” observed the teacher, “do 
not get into dark passages at midnight, my 
dear!” 

“No, sweet, they get into the dark halls in 
broad daylight, don’t they, darling?” 

The principal put her two soft hands on the 
two pale cheeks of the girl, leaned over until the 
two faces were almost near enough to kiss, and 
said, “Oh you bad girl, I shall have to punish 
you awful hard.” 

“You won’t send me to the penitentiary, will 
you?” 

“Yes, if you make bad puns.” 

“Nor send me back to papa?” 

And so they talked and cooed, loved and 
wooed— more like two little children playing at 
one fountain. And such loves as this would have 
drawn her life up to the plane of glorious pur- 


78 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

pose— so bright and inspirational was she— a 
lovely, gentle bloom, for all her phantasies and 
frolics. 

But a dark, malignant shape came to her, 
came clothed in the fairest mantle ever worn by 
truth, and stolen by the Prince of Hell. It was 
the vesture of Love. Devils take the web and 
woof of Love, and of them weave spider-palaces — 
and Death holds his court in the vestibule. 

How and where the tempter appeared we will 
not relate. The story is told full-oft— and is 
wholly sad. The devil took on a splendid man- 
hood. Her heart was filled full of struggles and 
contentions with self— with her own bright, pas- 
sionate, wayward spirit. She loved the man — 
clandestinely. And when, at eighteen years of 
age, she was led into the deep darkness of the 
night, and the darkness of the soul, it was that 
wondrous mind of hers that led her captive. He 
was a polished scoundrel, who saw her intellect 
tapping at the wicket of the great gateway of 
human emprise. And he fed her soul on ambi- 
tion. He led her to the mountain top, and of- 
fered her the kingdoms below. He would soar to 
glittering heights with her. He half believed it 
all himself; he was the son of a New York pub- 
lisher. He never gave her honest love, but 
builded up the Castle of Promise. Her depth of 
beauty, and the flights of ideas but half-disclosed, 
enslaved him— one the passions and the other his 
capricious mind. 

He would open wide the doors to literature, 
and ripen her thought amid the storied haunts of 
masters dead, and the sunshine of masters liv- 


“COME ON IF YOU DARE!” 79 

ino;. He would be her mentor, her worshipper, 
her beloved. 

Much of this the wicked fool believed. He did 
not know that in the darker recesses of that sweet 
girUs being there was a pit from which the awful 
flames of vengeance would rise up hotly and de- 
strojr what it could not endure ! 

It was the beaten pathway. They fled to the 
city. For a year it was a life full of reproaches 
and denials of appeals ; of fitful, feverish hopes ; 
of storms ; of nursing worser passions ; smoulder- 
ing fires, waiting for a day sure to come. 

It came — and Harold died. No more than 
that will ever be revealed on earth. 

Bertha Key n olds is now a woman of twenty- 
four years of age, and childless. She is still a 
woman of rare beauty, of power and of intellect. 
She is not the child of six years ago. She reveng- 
ed her wrongs on the world, and like the Jew in 
the Merchant of Venice, she “bettered the in- 
struction. Beautiful, bright, cultivated, cruel, 
ambitious, profound, philosophical, conspicu- 
ous— the ruins of the sublime possibilities of child- 
hood! She was a literary adventuress. With 
what resources, finances, or social privileges, her 
life was lived, we know not— except that she 
wrung expiation from those who fell a victim 
to her fancy. Telford Knox became acquainted 
with this singular creature.. And at a time when 
her heart was softened, and a shadowy sickness 
of her ruinous life came over her— when she had 
heard ot the death of that mother who had long- 
mourned the daughter lost. She was in the prime 
of her life, and at times her manner was as gen- 


80 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

tie as the woo-cooing of the turtle-dove, and 
again as impassioned as the aroused spirit of 
the virgin victim of the Roman tyrant. She was 
a distillation from the wild grape, fiery, but 
lovely to the eye ! 

Telford Knox was not a man to blindly fall. 
From the very first of their acquaintance he, and 
not she, became the master. Sweetened again by 
memories which were severed from the present by 
ages of experience, she sought no revenge at the 
sacrifice of the millionaire prince. And there was 
that about Telford Knox which turned her heart 
into the invisible channels of a higher life — he was 
intellectual. He secured supremacv without an 
effort, with sentiments far bevond actual living ; 
and Bertha Reynolds became captive, seeking to 
part the chains at times, although she loved 
them. 


, CHAPTER Till. 

“which neither sun nor star REVEALED.” 

The dav had been without special interest to 
Mr. Knox on ’Change. Some Mexican mining 
shares had gone down to nothingness— on these 
he had lost, having a few hundred. But the Cu- 
ban Sugar Syndicate had boomed unexpectedly, 
and his bank account was materially improved 
thereby. During the day one of his tenement 


NEITHER SUN NOR STAR REVEALED. 81 


buildings had burned down; but before night a 
combination was formed to put up an immense 
storage warehouse on that half block. His lease- 
hold interest was doubled. 

Early in the evening he left his daughter to 
go home while he took a cab to go to his club. 

He lost the direction to the club, however, 
and swinging his vehicle rapidly around, the 
driver entered the northwestern part of the city. 
He passed beyond the section of palatial resi- 
dences, and pulled up in front of a rather pretty 
two-story brick house, the rear of the lot resting 
upon the river. The building stood alone, at 
least a hundred feet from the nearest residence. 

Mr. Knox stepped from the cab, and instruct- 
ed the driver to return for him at precisely twelve 
o’clock. 

He let the knocker fall, and the door was in- 
stantly opened by one evidently waiting for the 
summons. As he stepped across the threshhold, 
against his manly form a female figure was 
thrown— two splendid arms, half draped in lace, 
were closed about his neck, and a kiss of welcome 
pressed upon his lips. All this to a multi-million- 
aire of fifty summers ! 

“You are rapturous in beauty to-night, 
Bertha,” he said, looking at her exquisite dress 
as well as sparkling eyes. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” she exclaimed, swinging the 
drapery into the parlor, and turning to admire 
the graceful folds. 

“It is indeed. I am to visit you the whole 
evening, if you are at home!” 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


“Telford Knox is master here of both house 
and mistress. It has been a long two days.” 

“Yes, I should have brought you up to the 
Exchange again, but I am desperately jealous. 
You create a sensation. Why Roberts has been 
inquiring for you twice today— and that all comes 
from your being in his sight for an hour!” 

She led him over to his customary seat upon 
a little sofa, and flung herself down at his feet on 
a footstool— a picture of graceful beauty, intense 
passion and supreme intelligence. “But I don’t 
care for Mr. Secretary Roberts! Tell me about 
’Change; who lost? Who won? What about 
the great grave Transcon youth? Where is my 
sugar-stock?” 

“I sold your sugar stock along with my own, 
at an advance of fifteen hundred for you. There 
it is, commission and all.” And he placed a check 
upon the table. 

“That is good and kind, Telford, but what 
care I for that dross when you are here— a nobler 
mintage is man!” 

“Is it to be philosophy to-night, Love, or 
history? Or fabric of more dreamy texture?” 

“All three, if you will be philosopher, reader, 
and poet,” she replied. 

“When I wander on ‘Secropia’s pillared 
heights,’ my dear, I don’t make a speech of my 
own— you are my Secropia!” 

“Well, push those errant locks from my eyes, 
and I will tell you about a visitor I had today. 
There is a new Methodist church in this neighbor- 
hood and the pastor was looking up the heathen. 
I invited the good man in.” 


NEITHER SUN NOR STAR REVEALED. 83 

“Was his address painful ?” 

“Indeed no. I did all the talking. I wanted 
to surprise him ! That was conceited, wasn’t it?” 

“No; it was duty. What did you lecture 
on?” 

“Oh, we had quite a talk on the creation of 
sin. Once he said something about teaching 
us ethics and morals. Thus far he was pleased 
to find me so orthodox. But 1 sprung the Pla- 
tonic doctrine on him, that he couldn’t teach any 
one, except to practice memory.” 

“And did he believe that, you little Egyp- 
tian?” 

“No, Mr. Pagan, not at first. He unsheathed 
his sword against Plato. It was no use. I asked 
him to teach me something.” 

“ T will,’ says he.” 

“ ‘Do,’ I answered.” 

“He thought a moment and then said, ‘The 
Northern Finns worship the aurora as the sword 
of the Almighty. ’ ” 

“ ‘ I can only remember that you tell me so,’ I 
said.” 

“ ‘ How if I tell a child that it is wrong to 
steal?’ he asked.” 

“‘If the child does not recognize the truth 
merely within her own mind, she would take it as 
I do your Finn story. Those things are either 
self-evident, or they are laws. The self-evident 
cannot be taught — the law is a matter of remem- 
bering command.’” 

“Is that Platonic?” asked the millionaire. 

“No, you know it isn’t, but I palmed it off.” 

“What did he say?” asked Mr. Knox. 


6 


84 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“Nothing; I told him that I thought that 
Plato had proven that God had given us all the 
wisdom of Socrates, but that ministers were nec- 
essary to cultivate the memory part. Then i 
asked him why those Finns worshipped the 
northern lights ? And he didn’t know !” 

“‘Why,’ says I, ‘there used to be tropical 
plants and animals at the north polar region; 
and the cave remains come from the men then 
living there. It was Eden. And, it never rained 
there, of course, just as the Bible says. And of 
course there could be no rainbow there, just as 
the Bible says. And there were two kinds of 
light, and two firmaments, etc., all as the Bible 
says!’ ” 

“And do you knoy, he is a preacher of the 
Bible, and he never knew a word of it !” 

“Nor any one else, either, does there?” asked 
Knox, who was himself president of the Eclectic 
Philosophical Association. 

“Why, of course,” she cried. “Did not the 
earth cool first at the poles? Was there not a 
continually retreating storm-belt around the 
earth drawing nearer the equator? Don’t the 
drift lines on both sides of the equator show it? 
Were not the winds and terrific forces from the 
cooler north side and the molten south side of 
the storm-belt breaking up everything, making 
soil and drift? Well now, Telford, could there be 
a rainbow north of that storm-belt, which was 
the line of precipitation? Could there be rain? 
Wouldn’t ‘a mist rise up from the ground,’ etc., 
etc.?” 


NEITHER SUN NOR STAR REVEALED. 


85 


“You’re a great girl,” he observed, with his 
head on his two hands. 

“And, now, dear Telford, tell me — wouldn’t 
the equatorial belt be awful hot with radiative 
heat, and keep the oceans up there sky-high, like 
the vapor belts of Saturn? And when the earth 
between the nearing storm-belts got cool enough 
to let any of that mist down didn’t convection 
take the place of radiation ? And then didn’t all 
the oceans tumble down on the level earth, at 
once almost, and didn’t Noah know what was 
coming, and build the ark?” 

“You wonderful girl! And what did the min- 
ister say?” 

“Oh, 1 fold him a great deal more — as fast as 
it came to me. And I offered to wager him my 
new gown against his white necktie that there 
would be a flood on Saturn in less than fifteen 
hundred years.” 

“Did he take you up?” 

“No, he only raised his hands, and said the 
wonders of science are past finding out. And I 
told him that the wonders of the Bible were a 
long way past science— that science said the fos- 
sils were evidence of millions of years of history, 
whereas there wrnsn’t a fossil between the two 
poles that wouldn’t kill the long age doctrine.” 

“How so?” asked Knox, with wonder on his 
face. 

“Why even the fibrilla of the eye-lids or the 
fuzz on a leaf is so perfect that any man who 
would say that it was not suddenlv destroyed 
and buried there, would be insane!” 

“Well, what did he say to that?” 


86 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“He was tickled to death. He said I should 
come and talk to the Bible class. I told him No, 
I thought the world supported the ministry to 
study and defend the Scriptures— that 1 believed 
in the Bible not on account of the priesthood, 
but in spite of them!” 

“What did he say to that?” 

“Oh, 1 was awful sorry I said it. It hurt him 
so ! He was real good about it too. He admit- 
ted that thev were short in their accounts ! And 
when he went away he almost wept — the tears 
were in his eyes — because he had wasted so many 
years of his life !” 

“Poor fellow, he began to preach at eighteen, 
and never had more than enough to starve on ! 
And yet I’m afraid that he would do more to win 
the friendship of the wealthy than to reform the 
poor out of existence.” 

Telford Knox hesitated and replied — 

“You cannot tell — sometimes the greatest of 
earth’s noblemen dwell beneath an humble roof. 
1 am a grasping man, but I still believe that jus- 
tice to the poor is the righteousness of God . The 
preacher may be a hero.” 

She laid her head upon his knee for a moment, 
and continued, “I think I brought him into har- 
bor— to love his Bible— and to think of such talk 
from such as me — such as me!” She w r as thinking 
of her home then ! “Oh, papa, where is your love 
now!” she murmured to herself in bitterness of 
spirit— a child through all the years, beating 
blindly against the pitiless heart of Fate ! 

A little sob escaped her, and a tear or two 
trickled through her fingers. 


NEITHER SUN NOR STAR REVEALED. 87 

“Do not speak of yourself so, my poor child. 
We learn from babes the loftiest truths. Your 
genius startles me. There is always a future for 
such children as you !” 

“Dear friend, that is good and kind, and elo- 
quent, too ; and you mean it. But it is not for 
such as me. I was ambitious once. But toda} r 
though I startle the world it can add no lustre. 
In the last Boston Fulcrum I had an article on 
the Doctrine of the Infinite— and I couldn’t have 
my own name to it!” 

“What is the doctrine of the Infinite, Bertha?” 

“It is what the English call the Absolute — the 
positive, self-evident position that if the force 
point theory of matter is correct — and it surely 
is — then under the law of the co-relation of all 
forces, it becomes Absolute that a Conscious 
Power, without the limiting finite relation, creat- 
ed all matter, by will, out of nothing!” 

“You get into too deep water there for a man 
with a headache, my love,” said Knox. 

“Yes, Telford, such thoughts are only good 
when a person is alone with the heartache. I 
used to dream those mysteries when I was a girl 
at school.” 

“I am afraid your teachers had hard work to 
keep up with you.” 

“Oh Telford, how I used to love those teach- 
ers!” 

She looked up, with the far away expression, 
and lived for a moment in that yesterday of mem- 
ory. The gifted young woman bent her head, 
covered her face and wept. The mimic storm 
soon passed. Skillful actress, but still she did 


88 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

not know whether her acting were real or artifi- 
cial. There was that within her soul, however, 
that was real — the knowledge that the harvest of 
deception was the whirlwind — and she wished to 
lead a nobler and a better life for the friendship, if 
not the love, of this man. But at present she was 
sure of his love. 

“Bertha, I am proud to love such a being as 
you are — so beautiful and so brilliant! I shall 
make you shine in a greater world !” 

A sharp pain shot through the young wom- 
an’s inmost soul — a hot, livid finger touched the 
cancer in her heart— she had heard words like 
that before! 

She rose before him. She was majestic in the 
consciousness of a power which she will exercise 
before this history is complete. Her willowy 
grace was lost in a visible greatness. Her bril- 
liant eyes were luminous, her voice pure and 
sweet, but grand. 

“Telford, vou are a noble man; I know it. I 
honor you. I love you. But there is nothing in 
this world too great and too sacrificial for you to 
do for m e— except— to make me your honored 
wife!” 

He was dumbfounded. He had been entranced 
by her beauty, her sweetness, her intellect, her 
gentleness. He loved her, and he knew it. But 
he determined at once that he would not deceive 
her, and apologies were already on his lips. They 
were never uttered. 

There was but one release for Bertha from her 
tragic attitude. She flung herself upon his knees, 
threw her arms about his neck and sobbed like a 


NEITHER SUN NOR STAR REVEALED. 


89 


child. This fiery meteor was more powerful thus 
than in the majesty of her previous eloquence. 

“Bertha, you are wrong. I have a daughter. 
I have social ties upon which depend my fortune 
and success. I could not ask you to be my wife 
tomorrow, as a young man starting in life. It is 
not pride standing in the way. I am proud to be 
with you, and to have your love. The day will 
come, dear, when I shall ask you to be my wife. 1 
shall seek you.” 

“My love, when will the happy day be?” 

“The very moment my daughter is married — 
it cannot come before. She will probably be the 
wife of Secretary Roberts. Then we will begin the 
new life.” 

She threw her arms about his neck and kissed 
his lips. And in her ears he whispered the adora- 
tion that fills the heart of every woman with 
pride and joy. 

It was midnight, and the bell rang. In his 
own palatial home he fell asleep with the rich 
thrall entwined about his heart. 

Out upon the night air of summer floated a 
silvery laugh. But no soul could interpret that 
laugh— whether it were delirium and ecstacy of 
happiness breaking over the confines of thought, 
or — the satisfaction of triumph. When Bertha’s 
head lay softly nestled in the pillows, she was try- 
ing to account for that laugh herself— and so she 
laughed again, a delicious little laugh, echoing 
away in ripples, till the heart beating in her bos- 
om closed the gaping wounds, and she softly mur- 
mured at the gate of sleep, “I am not so wicked 
as I was.” 


90 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


And over all the night lmng a pall not more 
dark and shadowy than that destiny which neith- 
er sun nor star revealed. 


CHAPTER IX. 

“it is policy— not honor.” 

In years past there was a small room in that 
government building on Wall Street, for the pri- 
vate use of the Assistant Secretary of the Treas- 
ury, which we presume is there today. In this 
room all the reallv great transactions of the 
treasury are consummated. The Secretary him- 
self often occupied the room for conferences. As 
most people are aware, Washington is not even a 
figure-head in shaping the financial policies of the 
nation. 

At a small desk sits Secretary Roberts, talk- 
ing earnestly with the great financier, Vanderkill. 
The subject matter of the conference has been the 
recent attempt of Austrian and Parisian houses 
to build up an European Credit Syndicate which 
could liberate Europe from the domination of 
the great Hebrew interest represented by the 


IT IS POLICY — NOT HONOR 


91 


Rothschilds. The affair failed, the Gundermans 
were wrecked, and Vanderkill injured by the fall! 

“It will be impossible for me to decline the 
friendship of the Paris house,” said Roberts, 
“their offer means the whole financial power of 
Europe, and with it I can aid you in the matter of 
the Spanish credits.” 

“On the surface, Roberts, that looks very 
comforting to both of us ; but as a matter of fact 
the Hebrew houses have obscure men right under 
our noses, men to whom you would not loan a 
thousand dollars, who are the real power as con- 
ferees— whose word will go further than a vote of 
a finance committee or the American cabinet !” 

“And we are but the puppets in a secret ca- 
bal?” asked Roberts. 

“No, Roberts, worse than that; we are the 
subjects of Emperor Abraham; kings are his 
satraps; we are the jumping jacks — they pull the 
string. This financial control has become a 
mighty drama. It might be called the Treason of 
Gold. It cannot be a comedy— it may prove a 
tragedy in which the nations will take the stage 
and act it out. But what of it so long as we 
flourish?” 

“I don’t care a copper who controls,” replied 
Roberts, so long as we get the swing, If I can 
speedily consummate this marriage with Miss 
Knox, her father will work with us, and with 
Bearman we could crush the Pacific mushroom.” 

“Knox is a strong man in politics and in cred- 
its upon actual property, but he will not be so 
strong a month hence.” 


92 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

Roberts did not notice this last remark, and 
Yanderkill was glad that he did not. 

“We must keep that hundred millions of 
bonds out of the railroad syndicate, for half of 
it will go into that gigantic scheme of .young Mc- 
Kenzie. I half suspect from the way she talks to 
you as well as myself, that Miss Knox likes Mc- 
Kenzie in a romantic sort of way. We must 
crush that Transcontinental or give up all hope 
of getting the Pacific interest, and our steamship 
stock is a goner!” 

“Roberts,” seriously began the banker, “your 
remarks on the continental interests are just, and 
we will stand by you. As to the girl, i do not 
consider her of national importance. But we 
want you to throw the Rothschild influence over- 
board as soon as it can be done.” 

“But now I am in honor bound—” 

“In international finances it is policy— not 
honor— that guides.” 

“I once had an idea,” said Roberts, “that this 
country could run its own business, and that the 
people were the country!” 

“But the country don’t run things, and we 
are the people. Now I will tell you a large sized 
secret. When the Gundermans were laid low by 
the Rothschilds I was ‘short’ on stocks that a 
Jew broker on ’Change was ‘long’ on. I formed a 
combine against the Hebrew and broke him. 
And yet I have since found out that the Paris 
house of Rothschild were under that stock, and I 
have every reason to believe the Jew was their se- 
cret agent.” 


IT IS POLICY — N OT HONOR. 


“And the Paris house let their agent be 
ruined?” 

“Apparently,” replied Vanderkill, “but I now 
know that the Jew was not broken after all— he 
was a decoy!” 

“What has become of him?” asked Roberts. 

“It is Hayman, the curbstone speculator — 
though he is still a member of the Exchange.” 

“And you want to make your peace with this 
Hebrew, evidently,” said the Assistant Secretary. 

“Yes,” hissed the banker. “I always regarded 
the scholarly old seer as a mystery. 1 knew the 
Lord had a likin’ for his chosen people. But God 
is nowhere beside a Rothschild. There is a gigan- 
tic son of Jaeob behind every throne, in this world 
and the next. We think we own the Associated 
Press, but we only dream it. The Hebrews own 
the press and us too.” 

“If you are not wild, you astound me.” 

“I am not wild. When they organized capi- 
tal in 1862 they surrounded us— and we surren- 
dered — and to whom? For all you or 1 know 
this Hayman may be the real power behind our 
throne— that’s the kind of agents they have.” 

“But Belford is their agent!” said Roberts. 

“Yes, he thinks he is, and you think you are 
too. But the real advisor-general is an unknown 
nobody to the world.” 

“How did you find this out?” 

“I don’t find it out. I wish I did. I am no 
mystic; but there are mystics among these He- 
brews who still study the caballa to some pur- 
pose. Now you have a lamp to let you know 


94 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

that it is dark — and you will thank me for it 
some day.” 

“But suppose the people should know this,” 
suggested the Secretary. 

“The people? What people?” asked Van- 
derkill. 

“The merchants, the laborers, the vast popu- 
lation!” replied Roberts, smiling at the banker’s 
idea. 

“A chimera, Roberts; there are no people. 
What is it to them if every dollar is a borrowed 
dollar before it exists? Those who never do 
borrow don’t care! Those who do borrow are 
glad enough to get it !” 

“And get it of us,” added Roberts, “and call 
it ‘money! ’ ” 

“Of course whatever is best for us is best for 
the dear public,” suggested Vanderkill. They 
both laughed heartily, and the banker passed 
through the door. He returned and asked Rob- 
erts when his sister would arrive ? 

“In a. week.” 

“Let my family know, so they can call early.” 

The heavyweight banker withdrew. 

Roberts sat and mused long and earnest- 
ly. “The people are a ‘myth’ are they? Yes, 
they are— a vast, ignorant, conceited, befooled, 
misguided set of bigots and cowards!” 

“I know them,” he cried, rising in a spirit of 
wrath, and closing his door. “I know the ‘peo- 
ple!’— and their delectable leaders! They howl of 
wrongs and robberies— of hidden hells and secret 
suffering!” He was pacing back and forth, now, 
excitedly. 


THE AGENT OF HEBREW DOMINION. 95 


“I know them! Look at that father of 
mine — the dead patriot — buying and selling ‘the 
people’ like sheep — selling their intelligence as at 
an auction! And there is their man, McDonnell, 
sharp, shrewd, ambitious, Jesuit that he is ! And 
yet the dear public trusts the devil— bah! ‘the 

public be d d!’ In forty -eight hours we can 

make and unmake opinion. ‘Liberty’ is a prec- 
ious word — it means the liberty of men like Yan- 
derkill, aye, and myself, to crush the fcoads that 
hop under the dewberry bushes! Ye Gods, but 
what a farce!” 


CHAPTER X. 


THE AGENT OF HEBREW DOMINION. 

In the previous chapter we were present at a 
conference in the Subtreasurv building, and lis- 
tened to the financial revelations of that princely 
destroyer of corporations and windmill fortunes, 
Vanderkill; and witnessed the supreme contempt 
of the Assistant Secretary for the people. The 
first lesson the youthful financier on ’Change had 
received was the fact that the mission of man is 
to deceive and destroy ! 

On the same day at a later hour, he was 
again alone, and renewed his soliloquy. He 
raised one foot upon his desk, and followed it with 


96 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

the other. Slowly and thoughtfully he lit a cigar, 
tilted his chair back, whiffed amiably, grinned 
silently, and thought audibly. 

“That old fool Vanderkill is rich enough to be 
silly. How grandly he donates his information! 
To how little a thing will he yet shrink. Give me 
the matrimonial clutch on the Knox realties, and* 
my influence in Paris, and Berlin, and Brussels, 
and I can take his scalp within a month ! Hay- 
man! Lovely scarecrow, that! The world has 
yet to break the last great seal— and pour out 
common sense ! It frets him to think that I am 
the Hebrew captive instead of himself— I shall fol- 
low his example and look out for No. 1. The 
Rothschilds rule the earth, and I am earthly.” 
And he smoked and dreamed and budded castles. 

Let us leave Roberts figuring on Knox’s mil- 
lions and Marian’s financial charms, and step in- 
to a building close by. It is on the corner of the 
next street, and thither Vanderkill went immedi- 
ately, looking at his watch on the way. He as- 
cended to the third floor, puffing and blowing, 
and entered a close, stuffy room, at the dusky end 
of a poorly lighted hall. . 

In this room sat Bearman, a large piece of 
anatomy, which had made a life work of worrying 
the lesser anatomies. There was also Dodds, a 
rather good-natured, trim looking person, whose 
life was also spent upon the Board; and there 
were other brokers. 

They were talking of McKenzie’s corporation 
as Vanderkill entered. The conversation ceased, 
and Bearman explained that they had been sit- 
ting as a pettit jury on Roberts and McKenzie, 


THE AGENT OF HEBREW DOMINION. 97 


and had decided to let Roberts have the bride — 
and after the Knox requium had been chanted 
Roberts and wife could go to housekeeping in 
Oregon ! 

So it seems that Cupid’s courts are held in 
financial conferences as well as in my lady’s 
bower ! 

“Our forces are ready to plant, Van,” said 
Bearman, with a sort of “greasy” familiarity. 

“Well,” responded the banker, “I have just 
come from Roberts. He has two ideas— one is 
that he is the agent of all power this side of per- 
dition ; the other is that he will yet use Telford as 
a sort of crank handle to move the earth.” 

“Bearman,” said one of the brokers, “You 
better state the matter so far as we have gone.” 

To this Bearman replied : “We concluded that 
Knox’s weakest point is his Bona Fide Silver 
Lode stock. He only holds a small interest in 
Transcontinental, and it is paid up to asses- 
ment. His coal interests can be tumbled out, but 
they are not heavy— his daughter holds the stock 
individually. His Poolville Land Syndicate is 
shaky, but not heavy enough. He carries fifty 
thousand shares of Silver Lode, largely on mar- 
gins. He must have a quarter million to pay on 
the Bydall Square next month ; his assessments 
call for two hundred thousand within twenty 
days, and Poolville will take a hundred and fifty 
thousand. Bona Fide will call for half a million 
if we drop it twenty cents !” 

“But will not his vast properties hypothecate 
the million you figure ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Bearman, “if he could handle 


98 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

them. He might put up his home, for instance, 
into the hands of trustees, but he will come to 
you with collateral, and you can fix the rest.” 

“That looks well. I will have Roberts squeeze 
the market by delaying the July interest. In one 
hour we will put calls up to thirty, and Knox will 
want the whole earth by that time.” And then 
Yanderkill thought how nice it would be to have 
Roberts a party to the scheme to ruin his father- 
in-law ! 

“Break that Nevada Silver Lode, boys, and 
you can make a scalp on ten to twenty cents for a 
million shares if you look out for breakers and 
keep margins in sight.” This was Yanderkill’ s 
encouragement to the brokers. “Can we use the 
press in this, to shrink Silver Lode, and shake 
Knox’s credit?” — this to Dodds. 

“No, it would be unsafe to let so many nobod- 
ies into the scheme,” said Dodds— “we will suc- 
ceed without.” 

“And Prince Knox is a beggar!” muttered 
Bearman, his face ashen and his eyes burning. 

“And we wipe out another agent of Hebrew 
domination,”, cried Yan, who put every abomi- 
nation that stood in his highly virtuous pathway 
upon the overburdened shelf of his private hades. 

“How about Roberts?” asked Dodds. “Shall 
we let him dream oft?” 

“Yes, why not? He’s useful. He will be the 
husband of a girl with forty gowns and no gold — 
he can run an Arkansas flatboat next year.” 

Now let us move again to the subtreasury 
building. At the precise moment when Yander- 
kill pronounces that judgment on the Secretary, 


THE AGENT OF HEBREW DOMINION. 99 

Roberts, still sitting at the desk, receives a cable- 
gram in cypher : 

“Yes, we will take all the old issues if funded 
into fives. Do not take bid from 24378. Wire 
us such bid and 352 will increase same.” 

S151. 

The dispatch becomes more intelligible by 
putting Vanderkill in the place of 24378, and 
the Jewish Credit Lefoncier in place of 352. 

Vanderkill would have given a cool million for 
that cablegram and a translation ! Evidently all 
the cannibals are not exterminated. 

The precious conclave broke up to meet the 
following day and complete the work. 

“We will get Gen. Hanscomb with us,” said 
Bearman. “He’s a wild shot, and someone must 
bear the burden of over-selling.” 

As they rose to go, a creaking noise was heard 
in the wall, as of the pressure of feet upon a stair- 
wav. They all heard the sound and were startled. 

“Where does that door lead?” asked Bear- 
man of a broker. 

“A closet; open it.” 

One of the party opened the door and found a 
dark, dusty, cobwebbed closet, lumbered with 
debris. 

“The closet has probably not been opened in 
ten years,” observed the broker. 

Whether or not that closet had been occu- 
pied in ten years, a half an hour later Israel Hay- 
inan was peering around that room, with a light- 
ed candle. “Wipe out another agent of Hebrew 
domination!” observed the old man, with a 
trifle of irony in the tone ! 


7 


100 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE SQUARING OF THE CIRCLE. 


We love to dwell in Memory’s vale, 

Where flowers are blooming still ; 

< Where forms may fade and voices fail, 

While fairy fingers thrill. 

Bertha Reynolds sat in her back parlor, one 
summer morn, in wrapper and slippers. She was 
near the open window, and looked out upon the 
river. A quartet of idlers were already floating: 
down with the current — to reach the greater sea 
beyond and spread their sails. 

Bertha murmured, 

“Fair the barque that weighs her anchor, 
Waiting for the tide ; 

Shall we trust her for the voyage, 

O’er the waters deep and wide ?” 

In her hands, as she mused and sang couplets 
of the dreamland “Long, Long Ago,” she held the 
more substantial element of the present time, the 
fifteen hundred dollar check. 

Bertha was not a dissipated woman. She 
had permitted the poison of her wrongs to fume 
and flame in her heart, but there never was a mo- 
ment that she did not hope for a re-entrance up- 


THE SQUARING OF THE CIRCLE. 


101 


on the higher plane from which she had fallen. In 
those five years she had certainly tempted to ruin, 
and blighted lives which had paid court to her 
charms of beauty and speech. Her better self 
had been crushed by unutterable wrong. But like 
a gentle bloom crushed under an iron hoof, lift- 
ing crushed arms to the heaven above, so the 
nerveless arms of the Good within her were lifted 
up to far-off windows of the soul, in prayer for a 
better life. 

She permitted no delirium of carousal, nor 
mad waste of money, nor indulgence in stimu- 
lants. Shut out from privilege by sin ; maddened 
by dread of scorn from an underling world— itself 
unclean ; saddened by the knowledge that beauty 
would fade— and her brilliance of intellect be the 
thin music of a worn out piano — she shrank from 
the darker waters of an abyss, and oft nerved her- 
self to climb the precipice at the foot of which she 
stood. 

She beat almost fiercely against the pitiless 
rock, as she sat gazing at the quiet river— her soul 
satisfied that she had never plunged headlong in- 
to a dissipation which would have shut the door- 
way to a higher life forever. 

This is a picture of Bertha Reynolds as she 
sits by the window, and reaches out to grasp the 
wings of Hope, between the fitful moments of the 
fever of thought. The Amazon that once sprang 
at the throat of her destroyer was calming a 
tempestuous spirit, and cultivating softer and 
gentler impulses. 

She would not permit Telford Knox to even 
tempt ruin in her behalf. The race-course, the 


102 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

gaming-table, the meteor-life of the spendthrift, 
the folly of costly establishments and glaring 
turnouts, all of which were hers at will, she utter- 
ly and emphatically refused. She even declined 
boxes at the opera from his hand, and a respecta- 
ble old fraud as a chaperone. 

Telford might pile her table with rare and 
costly books— and what would the scholarship of 
the day understand of the Eberic and Himyar 
texts, with Ilfic and Ir-lan notes thereon — in her 
penciling? Here were the Astronomical Myths of 
Flammarion, the Pyramidical works of Piazza 
Smyth, the Geognosy of Lord, the What is Truth 
of Burgess, the Source of Measures of Skinner, 
the Isis of Latimer in manuscript. 

These profound elements in the nature of the 
dark-eyed priestess of Serapis drew Telford Knox 
into a realistic love which lifted him, at times, be- 
yond and above the hotter breath of passion. 

Bertha felt this inspiration radiating from 
herself refleeted back to herself— and hence these 
struggles to retrace the path of fateful years— and 
Telford saw the struggles. 

So averse was Bertha to gambling that she 
had urged Mr. Knox not to invest in Silver Lode, 
or even in the sugar stock. And, more singular, 
she always encouraged him to uplift the daughter 
in counsel— when she herself could not hope to 
hold that daughter’s hand for one moment !— as a 
peer. And thus she won a tremendous power over 
him— in some respects for good. 

It was to that little brick house which she 
“rented” of him that he came for rest. There he 
often wrote and read ; there she fanned away the 


THE SQUARING OF THE CIRCLE. 103 

fitful fever of life when it flamed too hotly— and 
no danger threatened him that she did not draw 
its sting bv leading him to pleasanter paths, that 
circled round the danger or led beyond. 

He had told her the story of Rap McKenzie’s 
heroism, and she had seen the giant youth in his 
rugged manhood, and had admired him. But as 
matters now stood, Bertha hoped to enter the 
Knox homestead, and she could not even enter 
the back door unless Marian married the Assis- 
tant Secretary — so it seemed to her. 

She had always dreamed, and Telford second- 
ed the fancy, that Marian did, or would, love the 
builder of Transcontinental! Thus to her the 
road to the altar lay over the prostrate form and 
ruined plans of Raphael McKenzie! Bertha was 
not yet lifted wholly above the brew of the pit. 
It was a profession, this ruining of men, and the 
great Stock Exchange was gilded within and 
without with respectability. Why should she not 
reap in similar fields? And she thought of these 
things on this glorious morning as she sat by the 
window. And she called up one evil genius after 
another, to train them to her evil purpose. But 
they all seemed of ungracious aspect and offen- 
sive, and one by one she drove them off. They 
oft returned, peering like serpents from beneath 
the weeds in her heart, or twined about her stal- 
wart passions— but she gazed boldly into their 
fiery eyes, denied them, and they slunk away. 
Bertha v r as fair and true this time. “If the 
brutes can destroy him,” she said, “let them.” 
“If she loves him now she will love him still !” 

“Now,” she said, a clearer light in her eye, 


104 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“how shall I invest this money? Telford would 
say, Tn sugar stock or Bona Fide!’ But I will 
find some avenue outside of speculation.” Ber- 
tha had once been compelled to pawn some jew- 
elry, and had consulted an old Jew, who listened 
to her story, looked into her dark eyes with a 
profound penetration — and refused to take them. 
But he loaned her the money on her personal 
note. The reader will doubt this, but then there 
was a reason for it. Bertha fround him reading 
laboriously in Sanscrit translations. It was from 
the Institutes of Menu. “Why don’t you read it 
in the original ? Now there is the title,” she con- 
tinued, “vou know what that comes from?” 

“No, I do not,” replied the Jew. 

“Why that is Yed M’Noah, and it is Sanscrit 
for Laws of Noah, and Menu is only one of the 
twenty-six forms of Noah, from M’nes of the 
Egyptians, Minos of the Greeks, to No of the 
North American Indians.” ‘M” or Mac, is the 
rude mask which has made the world blind,” con- 
tinued the audacious little woman, while a light 
broke upon the lew ! 

“And do you mean to tell me that the Keltic 
Mac, for ‘of’ is in all ancient languages, and has 
obscured our Noe’s name all these centuries?” 

“Certainly. And if you want you can carry 
it, by your Eber, through the Eberians, clear to 
Ireland and the Kelt ! You Hebrews are to blame 
for our darkness ! Why did you not let us know 
about the sacred ‘H’ and thereby take the veil 
from Abraham and Phut?” She was very care- 
ful not to sound the ‘H’ in ‘P(h)ut. The Hebrew 


THE SQUARING OF THE CIRCLE. 105 

looked at her in amazement. “What of Abra- 
ham?” he asked. 

“Indeed did not Ahhram and Brahmah live in 
the same city, have the same name, each have the 
sacred ‘H’ introduced (Abra-ham) and each live 
in the same century, and each give the earth the 
history of Noah and the doctrine of the living 
God? And was not Phut, Phoot, Bood, Bhood, 
Fut, Buddha and Fo, one and the same child of 
Ahbram or Bramah, sent to the East— to preach 
the Redeemer to come?” 

“What do you want of me, Gentile?” asked 
the grizzly old Seer. 

She handed him the jewels, with the result 
given above ! 

And now, five years later, as she sits in the 
window, day-dreaming, she remembers the old son 
of Judah. And she arises and goes to him. 

It was with much wonderment and satisfac- 
tion that Bertha deposited her money that after- 
noon, and sought out the Hebrew, no longer a 
a broker in jewelry and the like, but an operator 
on ’Change, as she found out by the directory. 
His office was on the fourth floor of a building 
near the exchanges — and no elevator ! 

She knocked at the door, which stood ajar. 
There was no answer. It was a business office, so 
she pushed the door open and entered. 

She was in a curious “den.” There were two 
or three tables in as many stages of decomposi- 
tion. On them were scattered books, maps and 
papers. Dust was everywhere. Evidently no 
female had ever preceded her. Several drafting 
and sketching instruments were lying on an old 


106 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

fashioned washstand. On the walls, and floor, 
were maps of Palestine, Asia Minor, North Africa, 
and Australasia, and an immense plat of the 
Great Pyramid of Egypt. Open books were lying 
on chairs beside the vacant seat by the desk. An 
old stove was gray with ash and age. 

“Truly,” observed Bertha, “the old Jew is a 
student.” Imagine her surprise, however, when 
she discovered that the old man was not only a 
student in the usual fields of investigation, but 
was deeply immersed in the forbidden fields of 
mysticism! On a large cardboard pinned to the 
wall were problems in triplication of the triangle, 
duplication of the cube, etc. In another place she 
found the Metius “pi-proportion” of the quadra- 
ture of the circle ! And behold, on every map was 
either the form of Noah’s name in glyph or text, 
as No, Tor, (Thor) or Bui, (Beth-lameth !) 

There were Hebrew verses, with the numbers 
to each letter immediately under — the first real 
exhibit of the seer language of numbers she had 
ever seen— and it forced her mind back to that 
home where her student father wasted in grief for 
his lost daughter— and her heart was faint. 

As Bertha’s intellect was keen and instant, 
she stood before these mysteries with a feeling 
akin to awe— especially at the hieroglyphs of 
Noah, the bull and the water-pot, and the paral- 
lels of Thor, Tau, Teo, Taou, and the entire class. 
But her most profound astonishment was at a 
table below for the T, or Tau, the bull’s head 
and the Cross of Christ, and the flood of Noah— 
in triple column parallel !— and then she came to a 
large plate of the bull Apis, “flood,” with its 


THE SQUARING OF THE CIRCLE. 107 

hieroglyphs of falling water and the ark of 
Os-Iris ! 

“I could live here a year,” she muttered. But 
at this moment she heard the shuffling of feet. 
Why should she start as if a guilty being, and 
seek to hide from the master of these mysteries ! 
Who can reveal the wondrous fears that move 
us? She looked around for a place to hide from 
view. There were no angles or corners. 4 By her 
side was a door. She placed her hand on the 
knob. It turned, the door opened. “It’s a pas- 
sage to the floor below,” she thought, and softly 
entered. Strange girl! It was a dark passage. 
Silently and slowly she passed to the foot of the 
stairs. There she found auother door, which she 
also opened. But instead of the expected hall 
she found a musty-smelling closet, with a door 
evidently opening into another office. It was 
dark, filled with rubbish, and the poor girl’s heart 
fluttered with anxiety to know how to get out of 
her predicament. 

Much to her wonderment she heard a voice or 
a name which was familiar to her— again— and 
the name of Telford Knox was spoken ! She lis- 
tened without the shadow of reproach. She even 
applied her eye to the key-hole as the unfoldment 
of a plot to ruin Mr. Knox proceeded. There sat 
Banker Vanderkill and Bearman. The others 
she could not discern. She heard the discussion 
as to the Rothschilds, and Israel Hay man’s possi- 
ble relation thereto. 

This was interesting — decidedly ! ‘‘Happy 
woman am I,” she whispered in her soul. “Rapha- 
el McKenzie saved a millionaire once, with giant 


108 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

skill— I will save him again by the power of 
Love!” 

When she heard the remarks concerning Mc- 
Kenzie, Roberts and Marian, she murmured, 
“Love is a football to these men. With them it 
is war in every direction.” 

She turned to re-ascend the stairs. The door 
of the closet she closed and threw the bolt, but 
the first step upon the stairway gave a loud and 
rebellious creak ! She was startled, but there was 
but one course to pursue— pass quickly to the 
upper door and enter the office, accepting what 
fate had in store for her. This she did, pushed 
open the door, and stood in the presence of Israel 
Hay man I 


THE BLOOD-ROYAL OF DAVID. 


109 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE BLOOD-ROYAL OF DAVID. 

Israel Hayman sat at his table, carefully con- 
structing hieroglyphs of the Pleiades and the con- 
stellation Taurus; that is, of deluge and Noah. 
As he completed the task, he raised his finger to 
the table of Taurian or Thoric ancestors, and 
said aloud : 

“Now, by the God of my fathers, I have the 
revelation. Tau is the letter T in all languages, 
and time never was when the Thoric ‘T’ was not 
the cross of sacrifice on the face of the Sun, or the 
Son of God, Ra! And we shall hold the sceptre of 
dominion till the Son comes. We are the Hammer 
of Thor on the Sun’s face.” 

He thought for a moment, with his finger 
still pointing to Tau, upon a peculiar hieroglyph, 
which extended from floor to ceiling. Then he 
suddenly broke forth, “My Jacob, and my Judah, 
those Christian fools have spelled the word ‘sun’ 
in two ways, and hidden the truth for ages ! How 
little they dream that the Hebrew name of the 
flood month is not Nisan, but bul! And that 
they borrow even the “son” from Noah’s deluge! 
We will rebuild the throne on Ratu-ma-imbulu, 
and resurrect a dead world. Taur’s hammer 
shall crush the Gentile till Shiloh come!” 

His soul was stirred to its profoundest 


110 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


depths. It arose like the flame in the soul of the 
Greek philosopher, to illumine the dark aven- 
ues of an infinite mystery. In an ecstacy he cried, 
“Now let the spirit come! Angel of Thor, de- 
scend!”— and he pronounced the sacred h in the 
mystic word. 

At that moment the old door opened, and 
from the very walls of his room came forth a fig- 
ure of inspirational beauty. To him it was a 
miraculous answer to his summons! The “Ye- 
heweh” was to recognize the tremendous epoch of 
the translation of the Taurian Myth ! — the revival 
of the truth from the rock tablets of an indes- 
tructable history, and the mighty myth of Tuur 
and of Thor! The answer stood before him. 

It was Bertha Reynolds. 

He was waiting for it, and it came! It came 
in transcendent Judean beauty, like the songs of 
the daughters of Jerusalem when the Prince of the 
Maccabeans overthrew the chariots of Rome in 
the valleys of the Lebanon. 

Bertha was the apparition. She was startled, 
as when Esther stood trembling before the Persian 
king. The lips were parted, the hand uplifted — 
the waiting speech frightened from its utterance 
by the splendid expectance of the Jew! 

Israel Hay man gazed upon her in transcend- 
ent awe ! 

At last the Hebrew seer broke the painful 
silence— and spoke in a tone of far-off majesty and 
reverence : 

“Child, who art thou that comest at the call 
of the Son of Judah?” 

The very manner of the Jew— his extraordi- 


THE SQUARING OF THE CIRCLE. Ill 

nary exaltation — gave to Bertha an instant in- 
sight into the situation. It would not have been 
Bertha Reynolds had she not taken advantage of 
it ! And the dark -eyed daughter of a seer was the 
one person in all the earth to rise to the sublime 
height, with a supernal exaltation, and move the 
heart of this man until it shrank beneath her 
scorching power. 

“I will ask thee, Israel Hayman, Who art 
thou ? Why sittest thou here, prophet and seer, 
within this atmosphere of mystery, while the 
world starves? What is thy mission to me, Israel 
Hayman?” 

Nothing in all the wierd history of this singu- 
larly brilliant creature, had been so intensely 
characteristic and dramatic as this daring 
speech! She was treading dangerous ground, bub 
there was no retreat now. She must go on with 
the faith of Peter, or, with Peter, sink — the waters 
of Gallilee were under her feet ! 

The seer was astounded ! Again he asked her 
in a gentle voice, “What art thou, Prophetess?” 

“No stranger to thee, son of Judas Macca- 
beus!” It was a master-stroke — the Hebrew who 
would not grovel in humility to be called son of 
probably the greatest warrior and statesman in 
human history, obscure though he may be to the 
modern, has not lived for twenty centuries. And 
yet, further to carry out this most audacious 
fraud, she suddenly bethought herself of one of 
the most beautiful idyls in all the semi-mythic 
records of the race, and one most surely unknown 
to a Jew— to whom it would open up a fountain 


112 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

of supernal glory. After which, alas, that the 
masque must fall from so fair a face! 

‘‘Father,” she said, “I knew thou lookest up- 
on our northern race of the I-saacsons, and the 
Dans, as Israelites — the lost ten tribes who apos- 
tatized upon Gerizim. Thou hast called upon me 
and I will give thee a revelation. It was said 
that the throne of Judah should be established 
forever; that the sceptre should not depart till 
the Shiloh come ! What doest thou here without 
a king, Oh Seer! Is it to be a power behind these 
thrones that the unspeakable ‘IT of Sinai prom- 
ised to thee dominion? Or, was it to hold the 
sceptre over the vaulted wealth of the world— and 
make it the despotic agency of wrong and ruin — 
under thy control? Go to, thou unbeliever. I 
am sent to tell thee that Judah reigns while thou 
blasphemist!” 

“Oh daughter, did not the abomination of 
Jerusalem destroy the Princes royal? Have not 
the chosen race been cursed of the Gentile, its 
glory withered, and its hopes sepulchred with the 
leprosy of despair? Aye, the princes were all — 
all— destroyed— thou knowest it.” 

“Aye, father, hut not the daughters. Awake, 
arise! Has the great Taurian mystery been 
solved in vain to thee? Was not the daughter 
of the Davidian line, Tephi, taken to Egypt, at 
the great destruction > by Jeremiah — together with 
the mystic stone of Jacob’s dream and David’s 
coronation? Did the dread Euphratean Nemesis, 
sent by the Most High, slay the beauty and the 
perfume of the lilies in the valleys?” 

“Lead me not astray, daughter, on that holy 


THE BLOOD-ROYAL OF DAVID, 


113 


theme— it is in the Targums that we should 
suffer.” 

“Alas, that thou shouldst have so little light. 
Did not the ships of Dan, in the year 480 before 
the Jesus came, take or undertake, to carry Jere- 
miah and the living Lily of the Promise, to Tar- 
shish, to the isles of the north sea?” 

“You dazzle my soul,” cried the Seer, in 
ecstacy. 

“And hath not Jeremiah been lost, and Tephi 
the princess, been lost for four and twenty cen- 
turies? Now turn thy vision back to the day 
when Noah descended the sides of Taurus, and 
founded the nations anew. Thine Abram was the 
sixth generation from Eber, from whence thy 
name of Hebrew comes; and tell me, apostate 
race, by what right dost thou use that sacred let- 
ter ‘H’ in the word Hebrew? Well sir, six gener- 
ations before Abram lived, the Eberian, with the 
Attic ‘E’ or T became the Iberian race. They 
poured down the Black Sea, and navigated the 
Mediterannean, went between the pillars of Her- 
cules before Abram was born, and peopled the 
Basque provinces of what is since Spain. From 
here Ilf migrated— thou knowest of Ilf?” 

“Yes, wonderful daughter, in my blind way.” 

“Where did Ilf found anew the Ebrew nation— 
Iberic to us ? Why in Ir-lan, sacred land ! And 
there in Ir or Ire-land, to sink into oblivion to ful- 
fil the purposes of the Most High ! What doest 
tliou that thou hast not translated the wondrous 
Eberian literature of the sacred land ? Go, reveal 
that in the year 480 before Jesus, a Danite ship 
was driven by storm into the Eberian or Irish 


114 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

port of Tuatha-de-Danaan. In that ship find a 
holy Patriarch, a saint known under another 
name in all the centuries since, who was none 
other than Jeremiah !” 

“Thou dream est,” cried the Jew, rising to 
come near her. 

“Stay,” she answered, motioning him to his 
seat again. “It was Jeremiah. He builded Ta- 
ra’s halls for the Davidian harp to sound down 
the centuries. Tara is the Hebrew Arat, law!” 

“Wonderful woman!” he muttered. 

“With Jeremiah was Tephi and the sacred 
stone, the stone of destiny from Beth-1 and the 
Temple! Jeremiah would not be saved without 
the stone and the princess. King Heremon 
sought the beautiful princess for wife. The pa- 
triarch refused except he founded Tara as a 
school of Ebrew, and be recrowned, he and his de- 
scendants, upon the Stone of Destiny! To this 
he acceded. Their descendants were thus crown- 
ed, until Fergus founded the Scottish monarchy, 
bringing the stone to Scotland . The descendants 
of Fergus to James VI, the James I of England, 
(who took the stone to England,) and every 
blood-royal descendant to Victoria, has been thus 
crowned; and the blood of David sits upon the 
Anglo-Saxon throne today — the lion and the uni- 
corn of Judah is their mighty seal !” 

Hayman could stand no more. He rose and 
held up his hands to bless the young woman. 
“Stay thy hand, Ben-Israel,” she cried. “Tell 
me if the sceptre hath yet departed ? Tell me if 
thy people have become ‘as the sands of the sea- 
shore?’ Have they builded a kingdom in the 


THE BLOOD-ROYAL OF DAVID. 115 

‘isles of the north?’ Have they ‘forgotten their 
own name?’ Have they possession of ‘the gates 
of their enemies,’ and conquer by their ‘ships up- 
on the sea?’ Verily, where are thy dead prophets 
buried if not in thine own soul?” 1 

“The prophets are dead, oh, Dove of the 
East,” cried the Tew, passing over to the great 
hieroglyph upon the wall, and holding both his 
hands to the mystic sign, with uplifted face — 
“Dead, dead, and the Urim lost— the Thummim 
without a soul to read !” 

“And lie buried, son of Judah,” cried the 
girl in passion, “where Tara’s harp hath strung 
its sacred chords and melted in the gloom of 
years!” 

The Jew went on without reply — “But the 
Truth still lies in thee — in thee— oh, Osirian mys- 
tery of the Joktanite !— embalmed forever !” 

A wild, wierd laugh, echoed in the dusky 
room. The Jew turned his head— and beheld the 
woman with glittering eye and tragic mien, point- 
ing to the glyph upon the wall, and laughing as 
in mimic scorn ! 

“Father, thou art beside thyself. I, even I, 
the lowly and the frail— the messenger of Tor, 
knowest thy mighty glyph, and can draw from 
behind its wondrous lines mysteries of the Iris 
and the Isis of the Ages. Knowest thou where 
that picture of thine is builded into the cen- 
turies?” 

He answered not, but lowered his arms. 

“Go— look ye upon the vast pyramid builded 
by thy God under the children of thy cousin Yok- 
tan! There upon its face, in Egypt, thou wilt 


8 


116 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

find the rock entablature enscrolled for eternity 
in its granitic front!” 

“Oh child of wonder!” 

“It is the mighty name of heathen ‘Apis/ 
thou apostate scourge of the Gentiles!” 

“No, no, no !” fairly shrieked the Jew. 

“It is ! Behold, I will reveal it unto thee. Thy 
triple apex is the falling water of rain. The dark 
square is the entrance, and the ark of Os-Iris— In- 
telligential Throne! The word is Apis, and its 
meaning is flood — and Ser-Apis, the Prince of the 
Flood! There, Hebrew, there is where thy He- 
brew bull, and universal Tau-rus and McNo, the 
bull-glyph, and sacred Apis, the garland bull— all 
fade into the one indestructable point of human 
history— the Flood. What thou hast forgotten, 
the Gentiles will remember, and therewith scourge 
thee before thy God !” 

“Oh, thou fair spirit of Jeshurun,” cried the 
Hebrew aroused, “Do we forget? — no, we mourn 
for light. Tabor is higher than the Jordan, and 
the Dead Sea beneath. We are the Dead Sea — 
thou art Herman! But fair woman,” he said 
more slowly, “1 have seen thee before! Who art 
thou?” 

Now came the trying moment. A climax was 
reached in the deep mind of the Jew, and the de- 
scent from the mountain side was dangerous! 
Bertha Beynolds was equal to the descent. 

“I am a willow, bending to every storm. I 
am weakness and sin, come to thee to show thee 
that from weakness must strength come — to tell 
thee that the lily is born to decay. I come to 
humble pride— which is the paralysis of virtue. 


THE BLOOD-ROYAL OF DAVID. 


117 


You will know me to despise— and hence I am 
here, a clod of sin, to tell thee that so long as 
pride rules the Shiloh comes not to the Jew ! If 
thou crush not pride, thy God will crush thee, lo, 
centuries yet to come. Arise in generous humil- 
ity, with a gentle heart for the suffering, and the 
new Shekineh will flame over the old altar.” 

Before she had finished the Hebrew had laid 
his head down upon the table and groaned. He 
then uttered a short prayer in Hebrew — 

“Oh God, let this vision depart for a time — 
and yet return again.” 

He lifted his head, expecting to see his pray- 
er answered. But lo! There was Bertha still, 
and more human in his eyes. She wished to dis- 
appear, but the ability was lacking. The lu- 
dicrous nature of the situation became apparent, 
and attacked her volatile disposition with over- 
whelming force. She struggled to control her 
face, but was compelled to smile. 

Havman’s brow contracted. 

She was quick to resources. “Father,” she 
said, “did I not tell you that from clods of earth 
the loltiesttree must get its nourishment? Do 
not deceive yourself— I am no vision. I am — a 
sinful, earth-soiled being, to whom God has spok- 
en, to bring me to you. I am even a Gentile ! He 
has given you two thousand years to prepare the 
truth for man. You study and discover, and 
now, at the summit of your glory you will live to 
see the pride of the world spew you over with ridi- 
cule ! I am the only one to understand ! It is all 
truth to me, and I come as a messenger to lead 
you on to greater triumphs. I am the earth— 


118 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

you are the tree! I am lowly earth and not a 
vision. But I am the one person who can under- 
stand you. The greater triumph will be the dis- 
covery that humanity is nearer the throne of God 
than the Jew or Gentile traditions.” 

“Who are you?” 

“1 am no prophetess — I am simply Bertha 
Reynolds— and once before I directed your studies 
into the channels required of God.” 

“How came you here?” 

“Sent by thy Creator, Mystic!” 

“You are flesh and blood,” said the Jew, re- 
tiring to the farther side of the room. “Neverthe- 
less thou hast told me things wonderful, and I 
shall not upbraid thee. Wilt thou tell me the 
story of thy deceit?” 

“I have used no deceit, Father; I came here by 
an inspiration— I read thy work on these walls, 
all sunlight to me, and I can see beyond. I dis- 
appeared within this door without knowledge of 
what I should hear in that closet below, or of the 
revelations to be made here!” 

Bertha kept on her speech detailing every 
event of the hour, not only of the danger of 
Knox, but of her knowledge of Hay man’s myster- 
ious relations to the financial heads of Europe. 
In this matter she assumed more than she really 
knew. 

This startled the Hebrew, and Bertha then 
knew that she was dealing with a man of great 
and invisible power in the world. 

When she had finished, he thought a monent 
in silence ; and then waved his hand to the door 
and said in a kindly voice, “Go, child, I shall not 


THE BLOOD-ROYAL OF DAVID. 119 

chide thee; perhaps thou art right. I am hum- 
bled. God does all things, and therefore he sent 
yon. I will give you my blessing.’ ’ 

A sudden inspiration to exhibit a lofty self- 
denial filled her heart. 

‘ ‘Father, give it not to me, I am not worthy; 
but when another woman comes to you, and asks 
for help, do as thou wouldst to me.” 

This astonished the old man— it was a gospel 
rarely spoken to him. He lifted both his hands, 
and in solemn words made a vow: “If a woman 
come to me for aid in a good cause, or for char- 
ity, I will be a father unto her in thy name, and in 
the presence of the God of Abraham 1” 

“I have done a great good, Ben-Israel. I feel 
it even unto myself ; and therefore I will ask no 
favor of thee.” How little that remarkable 
woman knew that she had summoned the Christ 
in that vow of the Jew— and that she herself 
would soon touch the sceptre of his grace ! 

“What is it you want, Bertha Reynolds ?” 

“No, Father; I will let thy vow be unto me 
a vicarious atonement for my sins. It may bless 
the enemy.” 

“Blessed and beautiful,” replied the Mystic. 
“Now art thou twice blest. Depart with sins for- 
given of God. There is a power behind the 
thrones of men that will rise up when thy need is 
most desperate. Farewell, until God calls again !” 

He waved his hand and she departed,— her 
soul exalted with a strange fervor, and her eyes 
filled with unbidden tears. 


120 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


TWO PROPOSALS IN ONE EVENING. 

We have written but little of the home life, the 
dinners, the dress, the society, of the men and 
women in this drama. Some of them had no 
home life. The feverish life of a stock operator is 
not conducive to home routine. If you, reader, 
feel but half acquainted with them you feel just as 
all their associates did in the bubbling cauldron 
of intrigues and wars. 

The Knoxes were in “society,” of course. The 
master of the house was not a speculator in mar- 
gins to a great extent, usually owning the prop- 
erty handled. The heavy deal in Bona Fide Sil- 
ver stock was an exception to his usual course. 

In their home Marian frequently gave “swell 
dinners,” as a necessity if not a pleasure, and of 
course there was a crush thereat. Where was 
there so courtly a host, a widower ; and where so 
charming a daughter, a maid ? 

As for Raphael McKenzie, he was not a social 
favorite for several reasons. He did not wish to 
be — and that usually settled the matter. There 
was no imposition in his heart, nor a shadow of 
affectation. It is true that he had years ago re- 
covered from the coarse manners of his boyhood, 
but he had never thrown etside a strong develop- 


TWO PROPOSALS. 


121 


ment of the practical— he was a great worker. 
But now that his thoughts rested upon Marian 
with such intensity his power of application to 
work was sadly crippled ! 

While the distinguished “nobodies,” found 
no pleasure in his company, the strong men of 
the nation found companionship in his culture 
and judgment. 

But above all, he was honored by that proud 
and happy mother, who reigned in the beautiful 
home m the two acre meadow at Poolville. Not 
only did Raphael find his rest and comfort there, 
but of late Miss Marian had made that home the 
terminus of her drives, almost always finding the 
lady with silvery locks, mistress of a kingdom in 
the kitchen, whither she went to dust her specs or 
adjust her cap, rather than to the French mirrors 
of her bedroom. Over the house, and over the 
garden, Marian was soon roving with the sweet- 
voiced mother, as freely as though that mother 
had been her own. Raphael found out this con- 
dition of things, and blessed the girl with the ben- 
ediction of his whole heart — and the hope of her 
became one of his treasures. 

Once, and once only, Marian drove over to 
Poolville and brought Mrs. McKenzie to her own 
home to meet some of the elderly ladies in her 
circle. But though it was mid-summer, Mrs. Mc- 
Kenzie shivered and wrapped about her the cloak 
of motherly pride early in the evening — and es- 
caped to the bedroom. The next morning she 
walked through the garden with Marian, and it 
was a great deal warmer! And when Marian 
made a little bow of lavender ribbon, and placing 


122 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

a daisy in the centre, pinned it in the circle of her 
cap, where the silver hair parted over the snowy 
brow, then the mother was happy. 

Soon after these trifling events, which fill up 
the chinks of life, Miss Marian gave an extensive 
evening party in honor of a visiting bridal couple, 
the Dunns, of Baltimore. It was a magnificent 
affair, and with the aid of a verv efficient house- 
keeper, Marian did herself immortal credit ! The 
long conservatory was emptied of its plants, 
large and small, and they were scattered through- 
out the rooms in a sort of “diablerie;” and the 
conservatory, opening from the diniug room, thus 
vacated, doubled the room for dancing. 

Not only were the rooms exquisite, but Mar- 
ian herself never was so radiant! Her “blameless 
face,” her graceful figure; her attire of light blue 
silk, the faultless creation of art, looped and fes- 
tooned with tulle ; her diamonds at throat and in 
sparkling pendants; her arms and shoulders of 
matchless mould and color— all added divinely to 
the easy courtesies which waited upon every 
movement. 

Assistant Secretary Boberts was there, with 
all the apparent attributes of capable and digni- 
fied manhood. He was not so tall as Knox, and 
had less of “presence,” but was cultivated, witty, 
dark-eyed, handsome and easy-mannered. 

Whatever his previous feelings toward Mar- 
ian, on this occasion he gave himself up to ador- 
ation and hope, and was continually at her side, 
assisting in the entertainment and diversion of 
her guests. Before the light of her beauty his 
material schemes vanished. He even trod upon 


TWO PROPOSALS. 


123 


the edge of that abyss where life loses its glow if 
deprived of the object of its waking thoughts and 
sleeping dreams. 

Roberts was not naturally sentimental. Be- 
tween thirty-five and forty years of age, he had 
already attained an important and responsible 
post in national affairs, and it had not been ac- 
complished without character and genius. 

Marian realized this when she found his eyes 
continually following her about the room, in a 
sort of voiceless admiration. There was a touch 
of pride and gratitude in her heart. Upon his 
part, however, he had not fully forgotten the five 
millions back of those transparent cheeks and 
crimson lips. 

For hours he tried in vain to withdraw the 
busy girl from her social duties, to talk with her 
on the matter of stocks and bonds— matrimonial 
bonds and household stocks. She knew of his 
efforts ; but while she was ready to quote Oga- 
looche Debentures, Hudson Preferred, or Gar- 
rett’s B. & 0., she did not speculate on the other 
market. 

At midnight Marian left the dancers and the 
lunchers, and sat down to rest under the whorls 
of a mammoth spirea. This was the watcher’s op- 
portunity. In a moment he was by her side, and 
entered upon a conversation on matters imma- 
terial to us. But he soon dropped the vagarious 
bubbles of society, and boldlv entered the treas- 
ure-house, where the crown jewels are stored. 
Marian’s heart fluttered not a little, and when he 
gently wooed, with splendid tact, and that ver- 
satile flattery which blends the “Bend thine ear, 


124 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

oh Queen” with the humbler suggestions of simple 
love, she felt that indeed he had wooed well, and 
deserved to win— except upon the game-board of 
hearts! Marian was then slow of speech. She 
loved another, and knew full well that though 
that other never came to claim her — still, she 
could not be true to this skillful weaver of delight- 
ful dreams. So she answered him. 

“I cannot be your wife, Mr. Roberts. I have 
known you long, as you say ; but I do not love as 
you have painted the pretty passion !” 

She turned to him and smiled, and he main- 
tained his dignity. 

“You respect me, perhaps, as an upright 
man?” 

“Yes, indeed I do. I feel very proud of your 
attentions to me.” 

“Possibly you could love me if we were more 
in each other’s company. We are so seldom to- 
gether, never alone. Leb us ride together— take 
healthful walks in the parks and read the same 
books ; be like children lovers— and we will see if 
there is not a bud of ‘pretty passion’ waiting to 
bloom!” 

“You are a splendid courtier, Mr. Roberts,”- 
cried Marian, in a free voice, drawing herself to- 
gether, and looking him fully in the face. “But 
how could I enter into such an arrangement? 
Think of it! Why, it would be the same as an en- 
gagement.” Still, Marian knew the power be- 
hind this man to injure McKenzie, and she pro- 
posed to disarm him until either McKenzie had 
grown beyond the danger with his mighty corpor- 
ation— or at least had declared his love ! So she 


TWO PROPOSALS. 


125 


added with a little dignity, a little frost, and a 
very little sunshine, “This is a matter so serious, 
my good friend, that the most reckless young 
woman, and the most affectionate friend, would 
take time for reflection.” 

“Then I shall hope,” he replied. He took her 
hand, but she softly stole it away. 

“I hoped to meet your family friend here to- 
night, ” he said . “I mean Mr. McKenzie. I can- 
not go on ’Change myself, bub 1 wish to know 
him.” 

She understood his motive in looking so 
closely into her face as he spoke, and she was wise 
enough 'to know how to parry it without a 
shadow of reluctance. 

“Oh yes, you should meet him. He is a friend 
of ours indeed. But he never goes into society— 
he is such a student!” 

“He was rather an ordinary fellow in youth, 
I understand,” he put forth as a “feeler.” 

“He has acquired all his education since. 
You never can tell what kind of a man a youth 
will make. Twenty years ago did your sister be- 
lieve that you would be where you are?” 

“No,” he replied with a laugh, “when I was 
sixteen she told me that I would be in prison be- 
fore I was thirty! — and she meant twenty!” 

This caused them both to laugh. 

“Well,” he added with great good nature, “I 
am lowly enough now at your feet, and I ask you 
to put my petition close to your heart. It is not 
for man to win success in this life— but to deserve 
it. Happy he who both wins and deserves it.” 

“You quote a beautiful sentiment, Mr. Rob- 


126 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

erts. It is wise and kindly.’’* And in truth she felt 
a litt’e closer to the skillful fencer than ever be- 
fore. 

‘‘Good night and good-bye,” he said taking 
her hand. ‘‘Trust me with your life and fear 
not.” He pressed her hand slightly, and laid it 
down himself. 

Then she sat down dreaming for half an hour, 
her company taking good care of themselves. 
The merry feet played the rythm to the throbbing 
of her heart. But she still clung to the hope that 
another would tell her the same beautiful story in 
the same beautiful words. But whether her 
Greatheart ever came to woo or not, she knew the 
danger he was in, and it was her sweetest pleasure 
to stand between him and ruin. “I owe it to him 
as my father’s daughter,” she said. But she did 
not know that it was love alone that put the 
duty into her heart. 

The guests were leaving the great hall, and 
the reception room was crowded with the cloaked 
and bonnetted children of fortune, waiting for the 
numbers of their carriages to be called. 

Marian was busy with the good-byes, and the 
kisses on the cheeks of her lady guests. There 
was a pushing at the outer door and Kaphael 
McKenzie entered, with stalwart form and ruddy 
face. 

“Is your father in, Miss Knox,” he asked 
bending to her ear as he took her hand. 

“Miss Marian,” she whispered with a light in 
her eyes. 

He smiled and nodded assent. 

“Yes, come, I will take you to him.” The 


TWO PROPOSALS. 


127 


father was in sight, right across the hall. But 
she wanted to honor this man before her guests — 
for the two ladies by her side at that moment 
were the wife and daughter of banker Vanderkill. 
Oh Love, where was Policy at this time? She 
took him to her father, and remained by while he 
read a note handed him by the young man. A 
slight pallor rested upon his face as he read it, 
which Marian noticed. Raphael turned to retire. 
She took his hat and in the now deserted draw- 
ing room asked him to be seated until the crowds 
had “melted !” 

“That is just what I wanted to ask, Miss — 
Miss— Marian, but was afraid it was too late in 
the morning.” His face was covered with a flush 
—not so was the cool face of Roberts in the midst 
of his wooing ! 

The crowd soon “melted,” each flake to flow 
into its own particular ocean of destiny. 

“Miss Marian, will you go on to the balcony 
with me for a few moments ? See, i have my hat 
and gloves. It will not be long?” Her heart did 
not say to her lips, “The beautiful story in those 
beautiful words,” but it fluttered over some such 
melody. 

And soon they stood looking at stars between 
the quinquefolia clusters, but he did not seem to 
be blythe of speech— nor were there eyes in his 
fingers to see that white, moonlighted hand, so 
near his own. But there had to be something 
said, or else make a break for the hotel, which he 
had left to woo at such an hour! So he grew 
poetic to the last degree : 

“I am as tremulous as those stars, Marian ,” 


128 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


That was fair for a beginning, only he should 
have applied the tremulation to his heart. 

But Marian’s heart took the bound at the 
words, and the Secretary’s music was not half so 
beautiful ! 

“I— I— you— I am— by the way, your father 
looks tired and worn. He is not so well is he as 
when he was— was, feeling better — I mean — ” 

She bit her ruby lip, and tried to help the 
struggling youth. But her wits were also gone a- 
fishing. “He is in poor health,” she observed— 
an awful whopper, for he was in excellent health. 
It was a hard time those two children were hav- 
ing in the great play of Life, but Raphael kicked a 
hole clear through the looking-glass with his next 
remark — it was too transparent. He said, 

“I haven’t said a word to your father about 
this yet!” 

The moon had now expired, and eternal 
darkness settled down upon the world of Love. 
Marian was groping for light. 

“About what, Raphael?” 

Now he was in for it! Now for the beautiful 
words, and the crushing of the Secretary. 
“About?” he asked. “Oh, yes, about, well, the 
fact is, — is, may I call you Marian without the 
Miss— just as well as not?” 

“Why Raphael!” 

“You see, dear — ” 

“But why do you call me that— that— ” Her 
two lustrous “night-eyes” were shining in his face, 
his hand had found the white fingers on his arm — 
he pressed them without knowing it— and she 
didn’t mind it— and when she tried to finish the 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


129 


question lie forgot the story he had recited all the 
evening. He threw his great arm around her and 
talked out like a man and a patriot — 

“Marian, I love you. Do you loye me?” and 
he drew her to his heart without waiting for an 
answer. And so she did not answer— he was so 
rude ! She simply, sweetly said, 

“I am happy now.” 

Soon he led her to the door, held both her 
hands a moment, and was gone. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


MR. BEARMAN IS SWALLOWED UP. 

Marian returned to the library, kissed her 
father an affectionate good night, and retired to 
her chamber to meditate upon her happy lot. 

Scarcely had she gone to her room, than a 
messenger boy brought another note to her fath- 
er, who was preparing also to retire. It read as 
follows: 

“Dear Sir It will be necessary for you to 
meet parties interested in Bona Fide,— at once, 


130 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


if you have not retired. If not to-night, then by 
nine in the morning. Do not delay. We will wait 
until 3 a. m. for you to-night. 

Demaresque.” 

He sent the note, by the little maid, up to his 
daughter’s room, with word that he would take a 
cab and go at once, returning the following day 
after Board hours. He found a cab a couple of 
blocks away, and was driven— not to the 5th 
Avenue rooms of the B. F. Co., but to the little 
brick residence on the river bank. “Demaresque” 
was a name which was understood between him 
and Bertha Reynolds. 

Oh faithless father— on whom the pure love of 
that daughter fell like a heavenly mantle ! Trea- 
son lurks through court and capitol— and every 
corridor of earth’s fairest temples ! 

The door was opened, the kiss given; Bertha 
led him to his usual seat, and took her place 
on the footstool at his feet. 

“Were you startled at getting so peremptory 
a call? I was afraid you would not come to- 
night.” 

“Yes, dear, and but for that name Demar- 
es que would have waited. What is the danger, 
love? I fear you have used the signature to both 
startle and try me.” 

“No, Telford, I would not do that— and yet I 
am in no danger mvself.” 

“What then inspires your fear?” 

“For you— for you, Telford ! And yet, if you 
were ruined you would be nearer to me than now I 
But I could not have it so !” 

“What do you mean, child? I had not 


MR. BEARMAN’S RUIN. 


131 


noticed before, but you are wild to-night; your 
eyes are unsteady— see— you are almost* in hys- 
terics !” 

“Yes, yes, dear sir— it is true. I am happy 
though— for when you crush your enemies you will 
come to me and say I saved you ! How sweet 
that will be, Telford !” 

“But you do not tell, my love! What is this 
wild fear of yours ?” 

“There is a thoroughly organized conspiracy 
on ’Change to wreck and ruin you ! 

“Bertha,” said Knox, looking down into her 
great black eyes, “did you also write that other 
note that McKenzie brought me to-night?” 

“Is, then, McKenzie also aware of this, Tel- 
ford ? — alas, he will not let me save you alone— he 
too, must come in and rob me of a sweet privi- 
lege!” Bertha bit her lip with a singularly wo- 
manish weakness— and yet, one that did her heart 
credit. And notwithstanding the serious import 
of the notes, Telford Knox gazed into her face 
and smiled. He saw the love revealed in that 
yearning to be alone his preserver. 

“Fear not, child,” he said tenderly, placing 
his hand on her head. “The note was of no con- 
sequence— McKenzie merely brought a warning to 

increase my margins heavily early on the mor- 

, >> 

row! 

“Then you have other friends.” 

Bertha then related the facts already given, 
and other matters of detail which she had obtain- 
ed. The assault on Knox was to be made at 
once. He was evidently disturbed ; his face moved 
unbidden, and his brow was ruffled. “I am in- 

9 


182 THE POWER BEFORE THE THRONE. 

deed, in close quarters,” he said, “and these fel- 
lows, whose business it is to grow rich on the 
wreck of others, have taken the opportunity; I 
have loaded up too heavily. It will take over 
half a million dollars to save me if they smirch 
my credit and crowd down Bona Fide stock. I 
am in a trap.” 

“But you are forewarned!” cried Bertha. 

“I am, bless your kind soul,” answered Mr. 
Knox. 

“Do you really care for the silver stock, 
dear?” 

“Yes, it is a wonderful mine— they want to 
crowd me out and get it! But I believe I can 
beat them at their own game,” he said, scowling. 

“I know you will do it,” said Bertha anxious- 
ly. “I have thought it all out.” 

“And how is that?” asked the millionaire, 
smiling again; for he knew the little wizard was 
a miracle of insight. 

“Why, Telford, you will perhaps sell all your 
margin stock or speculative stock, in secret, and 
when they beat it down and go to buy in cheaper, 
you do the same thing, making money instead of 
losing!” 

“That’s it exactly, child,” and he pressed the 
rich color out of her cheek. “But how did you 
know?” 

“I didn’t know, because I was afraid you 
could not do it on such short time.” 

“There is the difficulty. If I had ten men that 
I could trust they could go ‘short’ on five thous- 
and each, without anyone knowing I was back of 


MR. BEARMAN’S RUIN. 


133 


it. But I don’t know who is and who is not in 
this attack!” 

“I know two whom you can trust;” said 
Bertha, her face on her two fists, looking up into 
his face. 

“Who?” 

“Raphael McKenzie and Bertha Reynolds.” 

“Good— Raphael McKenzie can. sell twenty 
thousand shares through his brokers— and not 
one of them know that they are sold for me ! And 
you, dear, what could you do?” 

“I can sell twenty thousand more!” 

“How is that? McKenzie can sell because he 
knows he is selling for me and he knows that I 
have them. It is no risk.” 

“Well, sir,” she said, pouting, “my broker can 
do the same.” 

“But your broker would want to know your 
margins or to know your principal!” 

“But he knows my principal already !” 

Knox felt a qualm pass over his thinking ap- 
paratus— what treason was this ? 

“Who is your broker, Bertha?” 

“Israel Hayman.” 

The cloud lifted. “That broken down Jew ? 
How did you come to know him?” 

Bertha related a portion of her experience, 
putting special emphasis upon the “prophetess” 
part of the melodrama. “But,” she added, 
“When I, to flatter him, and speaking of the 
Rothschilds, ealled him, Hayman, The power be- 
hind the throne,’ why did he start so suddenly— 
and why did he say 1 alone understood his great 
secret?” 


134 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“I do not know. He is a mysterious man, 
and friendly to me. Besides, I believe that the 
European Credits are hostile to our government 
— and are merely playing with Roberts.” 

“But Roberts is to marry Marian soon, is he 
not?” 

“Probably, and then, if 1 can execute this 
flank and rear movement by twelve o’clock to- 
morrow, to whom will I owe safety and success, 
Bertha?” 

“To your future wife, Telford !” 

“Yes, Bertha, I give you my bond, which is 
my word, that you shall be my honest, honored 
wife. I only ask that Marian be first wedded. 
Now for these conspirators !” 

The plan arranged to thwart his enemies re- 
quired instant execution. The east was streaked 
with the rosy birth-marks of morn before they 
ceased planning. Knox laid himself down fof two 
hours rest. Bertha, nervous and flighty, could 
not rest. She soon had the servant, who was her 
factotum in all things, up and at the morning 
work. And when seven o’clock came, of that 
eventful day, Mr. Knox sat at the little round 
table before a hot breakfast, over which Bertha 
presided with deft hands. 

He went immediately to the room of Raphael 
McKenzie, and roused him up. It had been an 
eventfnl night, also, to him. Knox and Raphael 
were together for over two hours. The debits 
and credits were arranged, the brokers selected, 
and provision made to sell twenty-five thousand 
shares, on a falling market — and then for Knox 
to come in and buy twenty-five thousand shares, 


MR. BEARMAN’S RUIN. 


135 


all to constitute the same deal, Knox to pay all 
commissions and place collateral for margins. 

Bertha saw Israel Hayman and left word to 
have fifteen thousand shares of Bona Fide stock 
sold at the opening of ’Change, at what they 
would bring, in lots of not more than one thous- 
and. And that the stock was already in hand. 
“Reference, Raphael McKenzie.” 

That day the battle began, but was a sickly 
affair. So sure were Yanderkill, Bearman, Dodds 
and Perkins of success, and the half dozen others 
who were in the secret, that they were not “pre- 
pared for preparation.” There was a sudden 
furor to sell Bona Fide. Knox was around about 
the posts, where different stocks were sold, smok- 
ing cigars — and did not even notice the reports on 
the “clicker” of the destruction of his favorite, 
it went down under terrific pressure. Why, there 
were a dozen offering at once, and no buyers. 

Yanderkill became suspicious at once. So did 
Dodds. Bearman threw out great blocks. The 
stocks fell to 10c. Then, quietly, but rapidly, 
Knox began to bid in. He had sold fully fifty 
thousand shares at from 30 to 20. He bought in 
at from 10 to 15 ! He employed one of his friends 
to take every offer made by Bearman, until the 
fellow was short at least fifty thousand shares. 
When the price began to crawl up— and then 
plunge forward, Bearman rushed into the office 
where Yanderkill sat quietly, and asked in great 
anxiety : “What are you here for, Yan? The tide 
has turned, every body buys— one jump and we 
are lost!” 

“Why, Bearman, are you ‘short’ on that 


136 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


stock? Good God, man, you better buy in. I 
‘covered’ my sales long ago.” 

Bearman looked at the banker. “Betrayed 
by G — ” he cried. He rushed to the floor and 
began to buy at a whirlwind rate. And up, up, 
up went the stock. Knox saw the frantic broker, 
and smiled — a sardonic smile. He stepped up to 
the man and observed, “Mr. Bearman, I will have 
to call margins on your sales to me; you are a 
heavy loser.” 

“How much, Mr. Knox?” asked the frighten- 
ed man. 

“Fifty thousand dollars will do now, but if it 
jumps two cents more, I must haye another fifty 
thousand— there it goes one cent at a jump— one 
and a half — a hundred thousand, Mr. Bearman.” 

“My note for three davs is the best I can do, 
Mr. Knox — I must sell other stock.” 

“Give me the notes.” Knox knew these notes 
were the unsecured paper of a man who was ruin- 
ed. But he took them. He was thousands upon 
thousands ahead — and he had the call on at least 
sixty thousand shares of the great silver lode of 
Nevada. It was not a great battle, but it was a 
great day for Knox. And during all this day, 
Marian had not been present ! He had purposely 
sent her a commission by a messenger, which 
took her to Poolville, and she spent the afternoon 
with nice old Mrs. McKenzie ! 

There were two eyes in that gallery, however, 
that watched the miserable failure from beginning 
to end. Thev were dark and fascinating, and 
they followed Israel Hayman. 

When the exchange closed for the day, a mes- 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


137 


sender boy came up to the owner of those two 
eyes with a note. It read thus : 

“Dear Madam: — M r. Telford Knox instructs 
me that the profits on the fifteen thousand shares 
sold for you are your own — that he did not sell 
them — he only guaranteed the margins. The 
amount less commissions, is twen tv-three thous- 
and seven hundred dollars. It would have been 
more but I received no instructions to buy in un- 
til late in the day. 

Your obedient servant, 

Israel IIAYMAN. ,, 

This was refused in a note to Mr. Knox. “It 
is a sale of my claim on you for gratitude. Take 
the thousands, and give me ten dollars worth of 
your dear thanks— 1 will prize them more.” 

But she received the gratitude and the lucre 
too. 


CHAPTER XY. 


THE DEAD CANNOT THINK. 

Bearman was not a banker. He was a profes- 
sional wrecker, and possessed little, if any, real 
property, He came out of the fiasco on ’Change 
utterly ruined. His imprecations againt Yander- 
kill and Dodds were loud and deep. They persist- 


138 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


ed that the exercise of any judgment would have 
told him that the stock was let down purposely. 

Bearinan decided to let what little property 
he had settle up accounts. But for the hundred 
thousand dollars in notes to Knox, he could have 
recovered his standing if other creditors would 
permit him to do so. But Knox was now a 
relentless foe. Knox took those notes from 
Bearman’s hand, placed them in a note-book in his 
right-hand pocket, and remarked: “Mr. Bear- 
man, I will not bank these notes — you can take 
them up with checks next week.” 

He went forth penniless and without hope. 

He told his family nothing about the disaster 
Avhen he went to dinner that evening. Misfor- 
tune’s pallid eyes were looking him in the face, 
and he did not care to look into the faces of those 
who depended upon him for bread. On the sec- 
ond night after the wreck, he wandered forth 
through the city, aimlessly and hopelessly. He 
had never been a good man. Selfishness was 
pre-eminent— and now it became tinctured with 
definite designs of wickedness. He would quit the 
world and leave that helpless woman and three 
little children to fight the battle alone. Before 
putting his design into execution, he went into a 
barber shop and for the first time in twenty 
years, his face was shorn of every vestige of beard, 
He did not wish recognition in this world, and 
was fearful of his record for the future world. 
After this, he wandered on and on, muttering 
curses on those who left him to ruin. 

He reached the water’s edge. The river flow- 
ed slowly, darkly by. To the right it reached out 


THE DEAD CANNOT THINK. 


139 


for the sea — past the old cemetery, where the 
silent throng would rest in quiet as his body 
floated by. 

He touched the water with his fingers. It felt 
grateful to his feverish skin. He bathed his brow, 
his face, his neck. It cooled his blood, and his 
head grew lighter — he put one foot into the cur- 
rent — so cool and fresh ! He wavered in his pur- 
pose. Life was a burden, but death was heavy to 
bear. He withdrew that foot and tried the other. 
It was very dark out there upon the water — no 
voices— no life. “What is death ?” was the ques- 
tion borne upon the front of Darkness! This is 
death : Silence and Awfulness ! There was a dark 
cloud over yonder. It moved past the faint stars. 
It was not dead Death was motionless. Dead 
men could not open their eyes to see the clouds 
move— nor see themselves float out into the ocean 
of all things! Yes they could open their eyes. 
They were open— always open ; but they could not 
see — open and could not see? What? No. It 
was not true. They saw but they could not 
think! Ah, that was hell! To see— yes, to see! 
The image was in that staring eye— that awful 
eye — but the ghastly truth was, the dead could 
not think ! I would try it— but— I cannot try it. 
There is no trying death ! Death is Death. There 
is no trial where there is eye and ear — but no 
mind! Ha! is that a man — dead? Ho there! 
come to me! It was not a man — not even a dead 
man; a dead man is not a man. I am now a 
man, and I shall flee from Death! I shall return 
again and — think this dreadful matter over. The 
great question is this: Is death a rest? And 


140 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

muttering with unbalanced thoughts, the desper- 
ate wretch left the river bank, too cowardly to 
die! 

But the victor over Bearman, had no thought 
of Death or Rest. 

It was after night-fall, the evening of the sec- 
ond day after his triumph, when Mr. Knox left 
his office. He left well satisfied with himself. His 
enemies defeated and humbled ; Bearman brok- 
en ; his great mine on a boom ; his bank account 
swollen. 

He took a cab and gave directions to the 
house by the river. He alighted a couple of 
blocks before reaching the house. As he passed 
the dark shadows of the by-way trees, a tall, well- 
dressed, beardless man stepped silently upon the 
walk behind him, and stared at what to him, was 
an apparition ! 

“As I live that is Knox,” were the words that 
were forced to the lips of the man. He followed 
as closely as he dare, the grass beside the road 
hushing the sound of his feet. Knox was full of 
thought, and walked slowly and unheeding. 

Great drops of moisture stood on the strong 
man’s brow — as he tracked Knox past glimmer- 
ing lights — not drops of water from the river. He 
had feared death— but these sweat-drops were not 
dripping over his brow from the nearness of that 
rest he had declined. That moisture was not on 
account of anxious care — nor remorse for fleeing 
from his familv in distress ! 

Why did the salty drops pour down his face, 
and moisten the linen at his breast? Why did 


THE DEAD CANNOT THINK. 


141 


his eyes burn, and his heart leap like a flame from 
hell? 

Because one little memory had crashed 
through his brain; and it seared and burned, and 
warped the tissues till his livid features bespoke 
the awful ruin that little memory wrought! He 
remembered that his one hundred thousand dol- 
lars in notes were in that right-hand pocket — and 
no other living soul knew of them ! 

“There is no bludgeon here — I have no knife — 
— I— 1 cannot— I must— no, no!— but I will!— he 
must not escape !” His fists clutched and opened, 
and clenched again, and his arms twisted like ser- 
pents hungry for prey ! His mouth opened — and 
shut to grind his teeth— and his large, gross hand 
covered the mouth to muffle the noise of the 
grinders. 

Oh Opportunity, thou cruel handmaiden of 
crime— of Wrong! Thou accessory to brutal 
lust! Opportunity betrayed the wretch to his 
criminal intent. There was a broken fence. From 
the broken fence he snatched an oaken picket ! 
His swift footsteps overtook the victim — a very 
few steps ; alas, too few — a rush ! A blow ! 

And it was all over then ! It was not the eye 
of Bearman now that was open, but could not 
see! One little moment! so small, so short, so 
insignificant! And now a murderer bends over 
the dead man — a pocket-book is in his hands! 
“Saved! Saved! Saved !” he shrieks, regardless 
of the danger which lies in a second of time or a 
whisper of guilt! He pressed that leather wallet 
into the pocket over his breast, and beat his fren- 
zied hand against it! But he stayed his fleeing 


142 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


footsteps ! Crime will stop its flight in awful mo- 
ments — because it has to think — the dead do not 
think — it is the living ! The wretch thought — and 
his feet stayed under the flickering lamp. Out 
from the pocket from over his heart, came the 
wallet ; and from the wallet he took the papers — 
wildly passed them through his fingers, selected 
two, replaced the others, and flung them, in the 
wallet, over the fence! “I want nothing that will 
betray the crime !” said the man, and sped on into 
the darkness. 

Poor wretch, that staying of his guilty feet by 
the flickering light was his betrayal ! 

What an awful fatality pursues us! And all 
hangs upon a single moment. Eternity rests on 
the present, which is the infinite fraction of a sec- 
ond ! If the great sun of suns were to roll down 
the universe from side to side on a floor-way of 
starry splendor, but a hair-breadth of |the mighty 
orb would rest upon the infinite incline ! So won- 
derful are the moments ! 

But the strange and unutterable power of 
crime to draw the guilty man to the spot where 
his soul was lost, seized upon Bearman ; and stay- 
ed his flying footsteps; in a few moment he was 
moodily wandering, adrift amid the squares, or 
through the vacant blocks. In less than an hour 
the mouthing wretch is again close upon the vic- 
tim’s body, under that flickering lamp ! He looks 
and shudders— a woman’s form bends over— and 
with anxious care presses over the pulseless heart. 

He watches every move— until the lifeless form 
is borne away. 

But even yet the murderer is not free from the 


THE DEAD CANNOT THINK. 


143 


terrible Nemesis wnich pursues a guilty wretch . 
He has no place to go. Home? Oh no, not home. 
His feet will never cross the threshold again ! 

There is no rest — the rest of the dead would 
be welcome ! — but then — his wandering spirit, 
blood-stained, might meet the stricken Knox, and 
then there would be war in liell, and fresh streams 
of blood. 

He was moving slowly down Broadway — an 
hour after midnight — and there! — before his very 
eyes— was himself approaching himself ! The 
same gray clothes ; the same slouch hat ; the same 
stalwart form — broad shoulders, beardless face — 
heavy walk ! He stood motionless under the gas- 
light to let the spectre pass in review of his disor- 
dered vision. 

As it did so, it bent strong penetrating eyes 
upon the murderous face ; and the fingers of Bear- 
man clutched, and knees trembled. 

But the spectre was a myth of flesh and blood 
it was Raphael McKenzie ! 

And then a horrible thought entered the soul 
of Bearman: “If I were seen, McKenzie may be 
accused !— Even I had forgotten that I was beard- 
less.” And one streak of reason thus penetrating 
the cloudland of terror, balanced the mind of the 
murderer; and he went forth to sleep away the 
dreamless night. 


144 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER XYI. 


THE *' ‘STEALTHY SEARCH FOR LIFE.” 

Bertha Reynolds stood at the side window of 
the little parlor in the darkness, looking out at 
the night, expecting the arrival of her friend and 
lover. She had called him, determined to so ad- 
just the large profits accruing to her from the 
Bona Fide deal that she should pay therefrom for 
the house she occupied, with its valuable water 
privileges within a hundred feet of her door, and 
the vacant lot adjoining. 

It was a dark night without. The stars stole 
out of their hiding place slowly — and when at 
last, they peeped over the fold of the great black 
night-robe, they twinkled with less than their 
usual vivacity . 

While she waited, looking out upon the flick- 
ering light of the corner lamp, there appeared two 
men. One was Knox, meditatively approaching 
with slow steps. The other followed— a large and 
powerful person, who acted as if dogging the 
other. Her brow contracted— and her heart beat 
—for she immediately suspected foul play. She 
turned to fly to the door and cry aloud ! She, 
too, waited one moment and turned to take one 
little look backward ! How fateful are moments ! 
Her blood was frozen with the sight. As her face 
was pressed against the glass, she saw that 


THE STEALTHY SEARCH FOR LIFE. 


145 


great ruffian with the club uplifted— and down it 
crashed I 

Bertha neither faints nor shrieks. Her eyes 
start from their sockets flaming with wrath. She 
watches ! — and thinks. The pockets are rifled by 
the w^retch. He rises and flies. No, he stops — 
stops under that flickering lamp — takes a wallet— 
Knox’s pocket-book — from his own side pocket, 
with demoniac earnestness — picks out two papers 
with care— flings the wallet over the broken fence ! 
He takes one look backward to those sightless 
eyes and flees— darkness covering. 

“My God! My God,” she cries, “I see that 
face— that face— McKenzie— McKen — ” Her fail- 
ing words cease as she sinks upon the floor, un- 
conscious. And there she lies, like as a child in a 
slumber. 

Then the waking came, and memory. She 
crawled to the sofa— and lay there thinking, 
thinking very hard. 

Bertha was tragic by nature. And now she 
began to examine into her condition with the 
calmness of a good general upon a battle plain. 
“If Telford Knox be dead, I must retire to rest— 
and never see him more.” His still and pulseless 
clay will be found in the morning. Her cold phil- 
osophy did not say that the dogs would come un- 
der a risen moon, and bay the hours away, while 
the last feeble throb beats in silence, and the 
knocker falls pulseless at the door of the temple. 
She did not say it — but she thought it. 

“But if liying, and to live !” “If my hand can 
save him 1” She lifted herself feebly from the couch 


146 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


and stared into darkness, and listened for the 
beating of her own heart. 

“How wonderful! Not even Marian shall 
stand between us, if my hand can bring him to 
life!” 

She became again calm — and cautious. She 
unshod her feet; and with only thin silk between 
her and the dew-laden grass, Bertha went forth 
like a shadowy spirit of darkness — and stood 
over the prostrate body. If dead, no traces of 
this visit should ever be known to mortal! If 
living — she need sigh for no more worlds to con- 
quer. 

Her little hand loosened the vest. It lay over 
the heart ; it pressed softly there ; pressed harder, 
then lightlv pressed, only the finger tips down ! 
— no pulsing of blood to life’s centre. All was 
quiet, serene, — only those ghastly eyes watching 
her in her stealthy search for life. Her hand lay 
warm upon the breast, while she thought. 
“Ah! it comes! It is — it is life,” she murmurs. 
“It was an impulse — I felt it move!” Yes, and it 
fluttered like the death- wounded bird in the hands 
of the hunter! Winter has broken !— the smile of 
summer but waits on the risen sun ! 

Alone, with superhuman energy, that little 
woman dragged the body to her door, and then 
summoned the servant. “Here is a man who has 
fallen ; help me to take him to my bed-room ! 
See,” she added, wibh great skill, “It is Mr. 
Knox !” 

The morning broke before he opened his eyes 
to understand. She then bent over his face, and 
said most tenderly, “Dear Love, I have you, fear 


THE STEALTHY SEARCH FOR LIFE. 147 

not! 1 will save you, sweet; can you hear me, 
love?” And from his eyelids, she knew he ans- 
wered, Yes.” 

“I have sent for Marian, dear. She will be 
here soon. She will think we were strangers ; that 
I found you sick, and ministered ! Does my love 
hoar and understand his sweet-heart’s words?” 
And again she knew that he understood. It was 
well that she took that opportunity ; for he soon 
entered the wild and guideless pathway of delir- 
ium. 

The daughter came — another brave spirit to 
watch for days, where things mortal and things 
supernal were waging war — battles between 
idealities and spiritualities. When the name of 
Raphael McKenzie was uttered by the sick man, 
Bertha Reynolds turned pale and shook like an 
aspen. Marian noticed this change — indeed, 
Bertha’s face was pale as Death’s image. 

“Miss Knox, watch him please, when he men- 
tions that name — there is an awful mystery yet to 
be revealed. See if he speaks of any cause for an- 
ger between himself and that man?” 

Marian Knox rested her calm blue eyes on the 
face of Bertha Reynolds — a prescient gaze. The 
latter trembled a little. 

“Mrs. Reynolds,” inquired the girl, “am I to 
infer that the name of Mr. McKenzie is to be asso- 
ciated with this awful crime?” 

To Marian she was “Mrs.” Reynolds. 

“Yes, Miss Knox, though it seems impossible,” 
replied the dark-eyed young woman, very natu- 
rally and easily. 

“It is impossible,” said Marian. “Mr. Mc- 


10 


148 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

Kenzie nearly lost his life to save my father. He 
is a very near and d ar friend.” 

There was a darkly dangerous gleam in the 
eyes of Bertha Reynolds. But it was momentary. 
She could hold the terrible secret, and let it sink 
down into Marian’s soul at the proper time. 
Still she felt more indifferent now about Roberts. 
Telford was sick in her home — she was his evan- 
gel; she had Marian also, in her own, now honest- 
ly-earned home. She felt the words rise to her 
lips, “I shall compel her to love me.” And the 
windows of love really began to open toward the 
beautiful little “ widow” — so tender, so gentle, so 
wise, so affectionate, so cultivated ! And, really, 
to her own surprise and happiness, Bertha began 
to see the angelic sweetness of the girl with the 
eyes of affection— they sought each other. 

But imagine the position of Bertha, when, on 
the second day, she opened the door in response 
to the muffled knocker — and found standing be- 
fore her that same great “villain,” in slouch hat 
and grey clothes, as cool as a judge — so full of 
sympathy and attention! “He is a consummate 
actor, that Mr. McKenzie,” she muttered, when he 
was gone. He had sadly crippled her own vanity I 
— “such acting!” 

It was two weeks before Mr. Knox could be 
moved to his residence. He did not seem anxious 
to go. 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


149 


CHAPTER XVII. 


“ I AM THE GENTILE.” 

The two weeks with “Mrs. Reynolds” had been 
a singular experience to Marian. Her attendance 
on ’Change, and at her father’s office, awakened 
many doubts as to the natural goodness of the 
human race, and she was thus lately made a trifle 
suspicious in disposition. As her father recovered 
from the fever, which followed delirium, she began 
to wonder why he seemed to know Mrs. Reynolds 
so well, and whv he several times, called herself, 
“Bertha” instead of Marian?— which title was 
the Christian name of that lovely, dark-eved 
widow ! And as these things burned a little j udg- 
ment place in her mind, she was compelled to ask 
other questions: “Why was my father in front 
of this house?— if the statement be true— and at 
such a time? Why was there no outcry for the 
police? No neighbors awakened ! How could this 
little woman drag that body alone, without a cry 
for aid?” Early in the first week she had gone to 
their attorney’s office, Lever, McBride & Jones, 
and secured the junior partner, Mr. Jones, to take 
charge of her father’s office, and incidentally to 
work up the assault case; but without practical 
result as to the latter. 

Mr. Jones was a spare, frail, elderly man, of 
ministerial aspect, and of slow, considerate mo- 


150 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


tion— very shrewd, however, and of excellent judg- 
ment. But Mr. Jones was helpless in this matter. 
There was nothing that would support the idea of 
a collusion between Bertha and the criminal. 

Mr. Jones called upon the friends of the strick- 
en man — but it was in vain that he sought for 
motive. He was settling down upon simple rob- 
bery, when a little light was thrown upon the 
case by Marian. She was clearing off the office 
desk, when a slip of paper came to hand, having 
pencilled thereon, a memorandum of assets and 
accounts of the late battle on ’Change. Among 
the items are noted, “Bearman, two notes, $100,- 
000 .” 

That important asset could not be found, 
and Bearman was reported to have fled the city, 
deserting wife and children, after having default- 
ed heavily. This information came to her from 
Israel Hay man. In response from a aote from 
the Knox business office to Israel Hayman, 
Marian received a note from Hayman requesting 
an interview. She went immediately with Ra- 
phael McKenzie. Mr. Hayman requested Raphael 
to withdraw a few moments while he made a 
statement to Miss Marian, which statement she 
could repeat to him if she chose. Raphael with- 
drew. 

Mr. Hayman then gave Marian a precise ac- 
count of what transpired with Bertha Reynolds 
at his study, laying particular stress upon her de- 
sire to save Mr. Knox from the conspirators who 
met in the room below. He represented Bertha 
as a very wise and lovable creature, but unfortu- 
nately an adventuress ! His words regarding her 


“I AM THE GENTILE. 


151 


wonderful knowledge of the profoundest elements 
of mystic philosophy, surprised Marian more than 
all else. 

And when he told her of his vow, and Bertha’s 
remarkable refusal to benefit thereby, and even 
a hope that it might bless an enemy, her wonder 
was boundless. 

This revelation regarding the young woman 
determined Marian to seek at once a full and free 
explanation from her. Both her respect and affec- 
tion were vastly increased. The opportunity for 
the interview came very speedily. 

It will be remembered that Bertha saw the 
pocket-book thrown over the fence, into the va- 
cant lot— as she believed, by McKenzie. As Mar- 
ian had not found the book with which she was so 
familiar, she was very much worried over the mat- 
ter, often referring to the disappearance. 

Bertha determined to secure it ; so one after- 
noon, when Marian was sitting by that side win- 
dow, she remarked— 

“What bold and handsome dandelions over 
in that vacant lot — violets too, I presume, i will 
go and gather some for you, Marian.” 

She tied a veil over her head, passed out of 
the front door and tripped to the grassy lot, 
through the broken fence— and sure enough, in 
gathering grasses and flowers, she found the wal- 
let ! She raised it aloft and cried out to Marian— 
who was looking at her at the time. Somehow 
Marian did not seem surprised ! Bertha hastened 
back, and placed it in the daughter’s hands. 
Though apparently pleased, in her heart Marian 


152 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

thought, “Mrs. Reynolds did not go to that lot to 
look for violets!” 

Looking through the folds, Marian noted in 
silence that the Bear man notes were not there. 
Then she turned to Bertha, and determined to un- 
ravel the mystery by the shortest route : 

“Mrs. Reynolds, your first name is Bertha, is 
it not?” 

“It is, Miss Marian,” she replied very nicely. 

“Now, Bertha, any friend to my father is my 
friend. I love those he loves. Without regret or 
fear, would you not reveal to me all that you 
keep from me? Why should I travel forever in an 
avenue of mystery?” 

“Marian,” murmured Bertha, in a soothing 
tone, “I wish you knew all!” 

“Tell me how long you have known my fath- 
er? Why you deceive me as to your name? 
What is there about this crime which is hidden 
from me? — the silence at night! No neighbors 
aroused ! no police summoned ! I know you 
yourself would not be a party to this awful crime ! 
Therefore tell me all— and cross the bridge, dan- 
gerous as it may be!” She looked Bertha full in 
the face, but not unkindly. 

Bertha was taken completely by surprise. She 
saw at once that Marian knew that which she her- 
self had never told her. The impulse to keen de- 
ception was withered by the mutual regard of the 
two young women. Bertha was changed. She 
was feeling the benediction of good deeds in her 
heart. Still sore in spirit; still prone to use her 
genius for acting, she was limp clay in the hands 


“I AM THE GENTILE/ 


153 


of Fate, praying for a great good. She could not 
answer — was struck dumb. 

“Tell me all, Bertha Reynolds — as though I 
were the angel breaking through the wall, come 
to hear confession and bear it to God ! Believe 
me, Bertha, even though it lay bare the evil, still, 
as you protected my father, so will I cling to 
you!” — Marian remembered the “atonement” in 
the singular story of the Jew, and felt the spirit of 
sacrifice in her own heart. 

Bertha’s face grew red and white by turns. 
She was not like the child of genius as in former 
trials— was she not on trial before innocence? 

“Come,” said Marian sweetly. 

“I will,” cried Bertha, a flash of her old in- 
spiration coming to her. “I will— poor girl— poor 
girl! — Oh Marian, you should not ask it!” Her 
face was clothed in agonv. She slid off from her 
chair, on to her knees, and fell over into Marian’s 
lap and wept and sobbed aloud. 

Marian was thoroughly bewildered, but she 
let the flood-gates remain open to this great grief, 
softly stroking the dark, silkv hair. When the 
tears were exhausted, Bertha raised her head, and 
gazed with the fullness »f love into the other’s 
eyes, the dark against the blue, and said with at 
least partial honesty : 

“It was all for you, child, that I withheld part 
of the story ; withholding part, I had to withhold 
nearly all. I will tell it now, if you will ! It were 
better buried forever.” 

“I cannot have peace of mind, Bertha, with- 
out the story— not yours, perhaps,, but mine.” 
Her heart was filling up to the full for this strange 


154 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

and beautiful creature, who could enthrall the 
profound Jewish scholar, and hold mysterious re- 
lations to the great financier — her father ! 

Bertha began : “You love a man dearly ?” 

The other woman shuddered. Why begin 
thus? What was that to her? She placed her 
hand on the forehead of Bertha, and said, 

“I have no right to say that to another.” 

“Shall I go on? Or shall I cease, and let the 
cold sweep in between us? I pleaded with you not 
to hear this.” 

There was hesitation before the answer. 
When it came, it was, 

“Go on, 1 will listen to all.” 

And Bertha began her story. She could not 
reveal the darkest chapter— let the reader who 
hath greater courage cast a stone. 

“I am not a bad woman, Miss Marian. I was 
raised in a most excellent Christian family, and 
married young. My husband is dead. 1 am here 
in this city alone, with very little property, a liv- 
ing to secure, respectability to maintain. I have 
been on the Stock Exchange— rarely in person. 
But I met your father. He is an educated man, a 
gentleman, 1 like him. I honestly declare that I 
sought his acquaintance. I had a right to do so. 
He liked me. I have some qualities of mind, per- 
haps — at least he liked me. Would I refuse that 
respect or admiration? The woman who would 
do so, is false. I was not false — I was happy to 
have his friendship ! I was, through a remarkable 
Providence, enabled to save him from an over- 
whelming ruin. So he will tell you.” 


“I AM THE GENTILE. 


155 


“I know it from another!” interrupted Mar- 
ian. 

“Who?” cried the girl, visibly startled. 

“Israel Hay man,” replied Marian, with slow* 
and impressive voice. 

Bertha was unprepared for this. Her won- 
derful exploit with the Israelite was one of her 
triumphs— but a secret. She laid her head down 
again in Marian’s lap, drew a long and painful 
sigh, and began again to sob. 

“Fear not, sorceress,” said Marian. 11 1 am 
the Gentile , on whom alights the kindly vow of 
the Seer — your blessing through him ! Do you re- 
member?” “Come now, dear, go on with your 
story.” 

It was with painful interruptions that Bertha 
continued. 

“I wanted your father to come down and tell 
me how the battle went on ’Change. He answered 
that he would be here at nine that evening. I 
stood at this window waiting, at nine o’clock. I 
saw him and behind him another. “There,” she 
said, with an hysterical sob, pointing to the 
lamp-post, “there I saw the club raised— and your 
father go down! The wretch bent over the pros- 
trate bodv. He took that pocket-book from his 
clothes— stopped under the lamp, took out pieces 
of paper— and tossed that ,” touching the wallet, 
“over into the grass.” 

“I fainted right here. When I awoke, I drag- 
ged myself to that sofa— and thought deeply over 
the matter, and waited for strength. I then took 
off my shoes, and went out m the darkness, found 


156 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


a faint hope left in his heart, dragged his body 
here — now you know all.” 

“Not all, dear,” urged Marian. 

“Yes, all.” 

“Why did yon not raise an outcry?” 

“Oh Marian, you must not ask me that.” 

“Tell it all, dear, I can bear it.” 

“I have not told it all, Marian,” she said, 
lifting her hand up on to that other fair head, 
“for your sake.” 

“But now, Bertha, you may tell me all!” 

“Marian, that brutal ruffian was large, tall, 
powerful, wore grey clothes, black slouch hat — 
was beardless— it was — ” 

“Say it, Bertha!” 

“Raphael McKenzie!” 

The blood rushed to Marian’s face. She knew 
what Bertha was going to say, but the saying of 
it was awful. She had her answer ready and 
waiting. 

“Bertha, you have been good and kind. Your 
regard for my father, and his friendship for you, I 
now fear, will never sever us as friends. He is in 
too great a peril. As to Mr. McKenzie, the boy- 
man who leaped across the fiery furnace to save 
my father, expecting death himself— in regard to 
him you are mistaken, It was not him.” 

“No, no, poor girl. I knew it was not him— it 
couldn’t be!— but Marian, I saw it— I saw it— I 
saw the face !” 

Her head was buried again in Marian’s lap. 

“You speak the truth, Bertha. You are a 
weird, strange girl. You saw that form, that face 
—but they were not there ! Can you tell me, with 


“I AM THE GENTILE . 1 


157 


all your depth of knowledge, why Raphael wanted 
Mr. Bearman’s notes!” 

A gleam of light shot from Bertha’s eyes. In- 
deed, she had not thought of that. She lifted her 
face again from Marian’s knees, and slowly mut- 
tered, “I— saw— either him or a vision.” 

“It was not him— it was the vision.” 

“Will you ask him, dear?” cried Bertha. 

“Never! — my love — never!” 

“May I — dear Marian? — may I, when I know 
so well, I did not see what I am sure I did see?” 

“Yes, love, yes — but not for weeks. When he 
knows I love him too well to doubt him!” 

The next day Telford Knox was taken to his 
own home, — a pitiable wreck. 

The daughter urged, “commanded,” Bertha 
to go with them— “for father’s sake”— and she 
obeyed. Alas, Marian knew too w r ell that there 
was no reason now why his few days should be 
robbed of that soft and tender hand. 


158 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


“ 789 — 351 .” 

Marian met Raphael very frequently during 
the days which followed that night scene on the 
balcony. She had also met Mr. Roberts for a few 
moments, but it was in the presence of others. 
Mr. Roberts stated that his sister would soon ar- 
rive from Chicago, and he thought very seriously 
of taking a house. 

Girls are great schemers, even when the de- 
mure features give no betrayal. It was wonder- 
ful how the company would “thin out” when Mc- 
Kenzie came— otherwise, for some reason, those 
two would weed themselves out into some garden 
retreat. 

In the afternoon of the day that Mr. Knox 
was brought home, Raphael received a note from 
Marian, suggesting that if he must go to Philadel- 
phia, for several days, it would be a good time 
now, while her father Avas so ill. It was a curious 
note to Avrite, but Raphael took it as a part of his 
gospel of life. 

The motive behind this note was fear. She 
did not fear for her love! But, as he Avas delaying 
his business in a first dream of love, and she had 
a plan to Avork out, she felt as though it would be 
best not to have any “revelations” of any char- 
acter for a feAV days. But Marian did not remain 


789-351 


159 


wholly at the bedside of her feeble father. Bertha 
was there— and Marian felt no unkindness. 

The daughter had other business. She com- 
pletely monopolized the faithful Jones, whose keen 
insight and laconic wit were never wanting when 
ugly tangles were to be unsnarled. The remark- 
able mental endowment of the girl made her the 
peer of her elderly lawyer assistant. All the vast 
properties of the millionaire were gathered into 
classes and solidified. Many properties were sold 
and proceeds placed in bonds, city, state and na- 
tional. Every claim was settled — all margin 
stock sold, and in fact, the entire estate put into 
such shape that three fourths of it was bankable 
as collateral. In ten days the girl and the lawyer 
received balances from all their bankers and brok- 
ers— and the estate was in splendid shape. Mean- 
time, she made a distinct contract with Mr. 
Jones, that he was to represent for his firm, that 
the estate was of immensely less value than the 
balances exhibited— the purpose of which will yet 
appear. 

During these active labors, she had received 
two beautiful notes, or letters, from Mr. Koberts. 
She answered them, and she answered them in a 
kindly, conciliatory spirit— urging her father’s 
illness as a bar to more amatory attention. If 
the reader thinks Miss Marian Knox was using a 
trifle too much “duplicity” let that reader kindly 
wait until the sequel throws a strong light on her 
devotion and her purpose. 

McKenzie’s vast scheme would be fully launch- 
ed within a very few days. Before it was com- 
pletely organized, this Transcontinental Con- 


160 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

etruction Company could be crushed by Roberts 
and his clique; once in full movement, with fifty 
percent of its twenty millions of capital paid up, 
it could weather anv ordinary storm. 

She knew this from Raphael, and from Hay- 
man. She determined to keep Roberts her friend 
a week or two longer. The clouds were gather- 
ing, she felt certain of that; but, as yet, she did 
not believe that the Treasury interest was 
against McKenzie. 

A faint gleam of this purpose of Marian came 
into the mind of the Assistant Secretary— at least, 
a perception of its possibility. But he could not 
credit woman with far-reaching activities. He 
loved for power, for millions, for beauty and for 
prestige. He did not look for a checkmate from 
an “attachment” to his colossal self. 

Vanderkill stepped into his office, he being in 
the building settling some gold balances. 

“Vanderkill,” said Roberts, “if we folks do 
not move pretty soon, there’s a young Napoleon 
in our midst who will be master of ceremonies on 
’Change.” 

“You refer to McKenzie.” 

“Yes, Van, I do. His corporations will double 
their stock in a month, if we let them alone ; and 
forty millions will run to par, with those enorm- 
ous contracts ! You know they have less than ten 
millions in it— counting Philadelphia and Bos- 
ton!” 

“So they say,” said Vanderkill, leisurely. 
“And they say more, Roberts ; they say McKenzie 
is trying to catch Knox’s daughter.” Roberts 
was looking out of the window, and the banker 


789—351 


161 


eyed him covertly from under his hat. The shot 
struck the Secretary; he arose and walked the 
office to and fro. 

“Look here, Van, I understood that we were 
going to crush this fellow on that Transcon. If 
so, it must be done at once. There is no time to 
lose.” 

“All we were waiting for was for your luke- 
warmness to spring a little blaze.” 

“1 am ready.” 

“Then we can do the work any day,” observed 
Vanderkill. 

“But we failed on Knox!” 

“By no means; that companv was not ruined 
because it had a mountain of metal under it. But 
we drove down the stock!— or rather poor Bear- 
man did. Knox didn’t care— he had sold every 
share. Bearman stood alone in that fiasco.” 

“How soon will their stock be listed on 
’Change?” 

“As soon as they close with the Philadelphia 
banks for a two million guarantee fund, from the 
Jays, and the closure of the Caravansas Kailway 
contract— all within a few days. But we are deal- 
ing in the stock now, on ’Change.” 

“Do you suppose he is backed by the foreign 
houses?” 

“I am afraid of the old Jew Credit Responsier, 
of Lyons, and the Brussels regency. I am against 
them— and would give five million dollars and 
retire, if I could crush the anaconda, for the two 
are one, Roberts; I will step on this young 
protege as I never put a foot down before. Curse 


162 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

him!” And Vanderkill mopped the anti-Hebrew 
sweat from his forehead. 

This talk tickled Roberts under the ribs. It 
was meat and drink to him. Yan was not only a 
powerful “Bear,” but he was a cunning Fox. He 
was about to measure swords with the untried 
genius under Transcon, and Vanderkill could fur- 
nish troops for the war. 

4 ‘You probably don’t care to crush the Euro- 
pean Grizzlies on account of the dear people?” 
said Roberts with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“As I said before, ‘The people? Who are the 
people?’ ” replied Vanderkill with a kick of the toe 
against the desk. “Let us move for ourselves, 
and the devil take the rest.” 

And they called a secret meeting of their 
friends in the room where Bearman’s doom was 
formerlv prepared. And the dozen warriors, with 
the scars of many battles across their bank ac- 
counts, came to get their “pointers,” proud to be 
the agents of Vanderkill, and in secret league 
with the invisible Ajax, that estuary of the Euro- 
pean financial ocean, the United States Treasury. 
And they went forth, and soon the scalpers and 
the curbstone traders knew there was some un- 
holy fire lighted on the altar of Baal ; and Moloch 
was about to move ; and they hung about and 
upon the coat-tails of the lucky “ins” to catch 
crumbs of information ! And from the vast stew 
of unsavory cookery, there came forth the efflu- 
vium that Transcon was rotten, bankrupt, totter- 
ing— and about to tumble. 

All of which caused Roberts to smile unto 
himself, and build fair castles on the banks of 


789—351 


163 


crystal dreams ; and people them with the fairy 
children of his hopes — all this, as he sat in his 
little office in the gigantic sub-treasury— in his of- 
ficial puissance, and smoked his fine cigar! And 
just then, a messenger brought him in a cable- 
gram. It read thus and so : 


London, E. C. 

“Consols of ’66 firm. No excess. Ministry 
opposed to further issue of Americans. Gold 
gravitating to the Danube. 675 in demand# In- 
quiry on Transcons. Wire report thereon. 

75.” 

“Ah, I will do that at once. I think that I 
can shape matters there all right !” This to him- 
self. He then pencilled the following reply : 


New York. 

“Americans strong. Funding bill passed this 
morning. Will you turn in twenty blocks or wait 
further call ? Transcon is a speculative scheme of 
no backing, already in bad shape on the floor. 
You don’t want it. 

1,982.” 


Of course, this was sent (to the Lombard 
Street agent of the Bank of England) in cypher. 

Now let us leave the happy Mr. Roberts, and 
enter the den of Israel Hayman, at precisely the 
moment Roberts received his despatch from Lom- 
bard Street. Israel is also fumbling a cablegram. 
It also is in cypher. The figures he was familiar 
11 


164 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


with, he did not translate — and when rewritten it 
looked much like this : 


Credit Responsier. 

“789— Cable 75 at once the standing of 1,982 
in 337. Consols 9. Rentes 7. Have 27,870—32 
—every movement 4,861. 27,998 about 7. 

Doubt advisibility of 390 in 28,003. Will await 
report. Will 4,901 survive. When will 520— 
1,863? 

351.” 

• 

It will be unnecessary to translate more than 
a part of this. The 9 and 7 referred to state of 
market, in which 1 was flat and 10 the strongest. 
The despatch is sent by 351, an old, broken-down 
Hebrew, in Rue Dessalonge, Paris, and “ 75 ” in 
each despatch, is of course, the same person. 
Have 27,870—32, etc. advises that agent No. 27,- 
870 keeps a closer scrutiny on a certain cabinet 
officer (who apparently was running off on the 
government-money “lunacy I”). 390 meant in- 
vesting or supporting, and the 28,003 was 
Transcon — awaiting further report. The balance 
would only interest the congressmen from the 
silver states. 

To this, Hayman also replied. But we do not 
note the contents except this : 


“Transcon fully capitalized to 50. Assault 
thereon by bears 13,309 [Vanderkill] and 1,982 
[Roberts] and others immediately. Shall I act 
judgment? 

789 .” 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 165 

To this came a reply : 

“ 789 — 1 . 

351 .” 

Which was: “Yes.” 

Later in the day, Roberts received a despatch, 
which informed him that the senate committee at 
Washington had reported adversely to the land 
grant to the Caravansas Railway. 

The clouds hovered darkly over Raphael Mc- 
Kenzie. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


ESTERELLA GODIVA IS FAMILIAR WITH BONESET. 

A change was creeping over the personal in- 
terests of the characters involved in this history. 

Raphael McKenzie aroused himself from the 
narcotism of love, kissed his good mother good- 
bye and was off for Philadelphia, closing up the 
great contracts of his corporation. He had 
walked, and talked, and even dreamed to some 
extent, with Marian, but as yet there had been no 
formal engagement— Marian requesting its delay 
until her father improved, but having in her mind 
other reasons which will yet appear. 

McKenzie was not ignorant of the fact that 


166 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

powerful enemies were watching him — men in con- 
gress .and men out of congress, and the bear 
clique on ’Change, men who thrived on ruin and 
fattened on wrecks. His personal investment in 
Transcon was 60,000 shares, out of a total of 
250,000; and by virtue of organizing work, 
patents, contracts, etc., turned in, liis t ; 0,000 
shares were paid to 50 per cent, of face value, 
$100 each. So the shares represented an invest- 
ment of $2,500,000, but his actual cash placed 
therein, was not over $100,000. The issue of 
stock would soon be doubled. It was held at 
actual value, or 50c. at this time, though “scalp- 
ers” on ’Change had run it up or down a cent or 
two in small speculative deals . 

McKenzie was a man of few words, but of 
powerful “presence,” with his strong countenance 
and assuring manner. 

Roberts was uniting the elements in opposi- 
tion. He became daily of more importance on 
’Change. When call loans went up on a cornered 
market? he would slip into the council room of 
some great bank and tell them to loan at low 
rates “to the extent of ten millions! I will ad- 
vance interest on bonds, etc.” And yet he could 
not safely appear on ’Change himself as an oper- 
ator. 

He was undoubtedly the plaything of Euro- 
pean Credits. But he shut his eyes and “made 
hay.” He began to fear that Marian Knox was 
farther off than ever, though she was very kind. 
Her one excuse was 3 “My father.” Feeling that 
the father would scarcely recover, he became the 
more anxious— those solid millions would then 


ESTERELLA GODIVA. 167 

make him master in the world in which he moved. 

His sister had come. Miss Esterella Godiva 
Roberts, of Cincinnati, and added her seductive 
smiles to make the life of Marian bearable. She 
was an elderly spinster, somewhat interesting as 
a character for a novelist. She and her more 
handsome brother Julius occupied an elegant suite 
of rooms at the Fifth Avenue, and thence came 
the diamond brigade of the beauty and chivalry, 
to fulfill social demands. 

Among those who paid this homage, of 
course, came Miss Marian Knox. And immediate- 
ly, within that week, Miss Esterella Godiva 
Roberts made herself happily, and restfully, and 
cheerfully, at home at the Knox residence. She 
was not a bore; not offensive. She was tall, 
spare, splintery, stately at times. But she still 
clung to the sweetly unaffected affection of eleven 
years of age, whereas the bloom of forty was 
nestling on her classic cheek. 

Her experience in this world extended into the 
realms of boneset and sarracenia, chamomile and 
Indian turnip. And she knew the glim of brocade, 
or the shade of dead roses— not in poetry, but in 
portierre ! She was soporific on literature, as on 
yellow jasmine! She was rare, if not very radi- 
ant. She met Mr. Jones, the lawyer, and patient, 
loyal factotum of Marian. And, as soon as Mr. 
Jones departed, Miss Esterella Godiva Roberts 
insisted that she could always tell a real gentle- 
man at sight! 

She. took to lawyer Jones with an evident 
force of character. If he grew pathetic, the tears 
sparkled on her now hectic cheek, and moved 


168 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

judiciously down her classic front. If he were 
laconically funny, she laughed like a kitten — not 
a kitten, either; kittens do not laugh— like a 
kittenish girl. 

Jones was also spare; he was also tall; he had 
felt the withering frosts of fifty winters, and the 
burning kisses of nearly as many summers. He 
was real good, real gentle, just witty enough to 
say good things and wink— but never laugh. 
Godiva loved the lawyer at first glance. He real- 
ized it and “appreciated her attentions” very 
highly. He builded no barriers. He was too 
good natured to enter complaint. 

He was now a frequent visitor at the house. 
Mr. Knox was lingering along, growing weaker 
and thinner every day; and Mr. Jones was his 
quiet and judicious adviser in all matters to which 
Mr. Knox could give attention — who was not 
wholly losing his mind, but whose power of concen- 
tration was giving way, so that Marian was the 
real factor in every movement relating to the vast 
estate. He was fascinated even in his weakest 
moments, by Bertha Reynolds— and she was all 
that a ministering angel could be to a strong in- 
dividuality which was surely fading away. 
Bertha had the same dark happy eyes and grace- 
ful step. She was no longer living to “rule and 
ruin.” She had made friends with all— especially 
with the little maid, Lulu. 

Bertha was naturally a lady !— a lady of mag- 
nificent mental powers. And not only the pro- 
fundity of her talk with the learned, but the 
beauty thereof, charmed many a visitor. Marian 
did not know the extent of Bertha’s possessions, 


ESTERELLA GODIVA. 


169 


and hence was very anxious that her father 
should make some provision for her — so myster- 
ious are the ways of love, when only half the 
truth is known ! 

One day, the latter part of the week of which 
we are writing, Mr. Knox called for Lawyer 
Jones, who came at once, Marian with him. 

“Mr. Jones,” he said, “I wish you to prepare 
a deed of the house by the river, at once, convey- 
ing* to Miss Bertha Reynolds.” 

Marian was glad— though she heard that 
word “Miss.” She said nothing, resolved to set 
her ver> soul against unkind thoughts in the 
presence o» her sad surroundings. And yet — and 
yet— with her natural affection struggling to fold 
itself about Bertha, there was an invisible barrier. 
And Bertha knew it. “I cannot get under the 
light of her soul,” thought Bertha. 

But Marian was not herself. She was thinner 
and paler. A month had made her beauty less 
ruddy— more spiritual— more etherial, transpar- 
ent, lofty. When Esterella Godiva Roberts left 
the remains of multifold duplicoid kisses on her 
cheeks, she smiled— and she smiled again, as she 
left the room, when Godiva and her G. J. (Greene 
Jones) wished her well, but absent. And, oh, what 
lixivious thrills of music strained through the 
mobile digitals of the fair Esterella G., when she 
let her divinest being soar for the benefit of Mr. 
Jones. He absorbed it — and never filed a remon- 
strance. And Marian moved amid it all as a sort 
of young, provisional mother ! 


170 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE SENSATIONAL FIZZLE ! 

Bertha had as .yet no opportunity to test the 
actions of Raphael McKenzie in regard to the 
awful scene she witnessed when Mr. Knox was 
stricken down. She dreaded the event of his 
learning of her accusations, for she felt that it 
would be an unhappy scene, and possibly lead to 
a complete revolution in the domestic affairs of 
many people. She, at present, only knew that 
her eyes had seen. She could not evade that tes- 
timony. 

The oppressive thought of this character, and 
the inner knowledge that there was a barrier be- 
tween herself and Marian’s world, began early to 
depress her spirits— in fact before the close of the 
first week, she made up her mind fully that she 
would withdraw to her home by the river. 

“Marian,” she said one day, “I am going 
back to the river-bank. Your father is not recov- 
ering. I can come and call. I do not feel it right 
to be here.” 

“No, Bertha, do not leave me yet. I know 
how hard it is for us to love each * other. I de- 
plore it. But you are not yourself now, nor am I. 
Still, there is one comfort for you — you go to your 
OAvn home, when you do leave us.” 


SENSATIONAL FIZZLE. 


171 


“I do not understand you,” said Bertha, 
sadly. 

“Perhaps you did not know that papa had 
deeded the house to you !” 

Two tears appeared in Bertha’s eyes, and 
crept out upon her cheek. But she did not 
answer. She had considered the house the same 
as purchased, waiting for Mr. Knox to recover to 
receive the money. 

“Come Bertha, cheer up. I will try to be kind- 
er and better to you; more — ” 

“No, no,” cried the little woman, her eyes 
flashing with its waiting flood. “You are too kind 
now. I will go. But I hoped to clear Raphael 
McKenzie from my insane accusations before I 
went.” 

“Why, Mrs. Reynolds!” exclaimed Marian, 
surprised, and not fully understanding the state- 
ment. 

“Yes, I know that he is kept away because of 
my singular charge! Oh, Marian, I saw— I did 
see him. But it must have been some phantom of 
the mind. I must meet him and settle it, or I 
shall go wild !” 

“Bertha, dear, you call me to duty. I will 
bring Raphael to us at once. It is a duty I owe 
to him and to you— but in which I have no real 
interest. My faith is anchored. I have only 
draeded the scene, and its possible consequences.” 

“So have I, Marian— I have dreaded it so that 
I could not sleep at nights.” 

The letter to Mr. McKenzie was written im- 
mediately. It was the “best” letter she had ever 
addressed to him. And that same evening he was 


172 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

welcomed to the house by the same little maid, 
who was delighted to take his hand. 

But Marian was then occupied with Miss 
Esterella Godiva Roberts and her brother ! They 
were in the drawing room for a call — and Bertha 
determined that Raphael should not be one of 
that party. So she introduced herself to him in 
the reception room, and excusing Miss Marian for 
a few moments, seated herself and Raphael in the 
library by invitation, and began the task of enter- 
taining another’s lover under great difficulties ! 

The old passion for coquetry was not dead 
yet, and it at once took possession of the brown- 
eyed beauty. In five minutes she had him 
amazed! She was talking of bridges, Roman 
Aqueducts and Chinese canals !— in a manner 
quite thrilling to this practical engineer. 

He found it difficult to lead her thoughts— her 
mind smoothly passed on ahead, and led him ; but 
still she listened, with earnest eyes, to every word 
he said. 

He happened to mention the temple of Ser- 
apis. 

“Oh, say, Mr. McKenzie, did you ever wonder 
why that temple was so profusely decorated with 
bull’s heads?” 

This was a poser. He didn’t know that it 
was!’’ “No, I never heard. Why was it?” 

“Well I think it was because the word “Ser- 
apis” means Prince of the Flood.” 

“Well, my profound philosopher,” he rejoined, 
“what has that to do with it?” 

“Everything; Serapis— why Apis was Egyp- 
tian for flood and bull too, because the flood took 


SENSATIONAL FIZZLE. 


178 


place at the culmination of the constellation of 
Taurus, the bull! See? Don’t you say No, be- 
cause you do see, don’t you?” 

“Well I declare,” replied the giant, “go on— go 
on— I always thought the Sphinx a mystery— 
but you are a greater! The next thing you will 
tell us, probably, is what the great Pyramid was 
built for!” 

“Of course,” she cried laughing, “only you 
know already. It was built to chronicle the 
flood. You know Piazza Smyth has found the 
flood mark at the right place— and ridicules the 
idea of its being the tomb for the bull-god Apis — 
so great and wonderful, just for a bull!” 

“And is he not reasonable, Miss Keynolds?” 

“Oh dear, no — of course not — men never are 
reasonable! — Are they? Why, if Prof. Smyth 
only knew that the bull was worshipped on ac- 
count of their star-calendar date of the flood ; and 
that the name of the sacred bull Apis was the 
Egyptian word, ‘Flood,’ why he would leap clear 
out of Scotland, for joy, wouldn’t he?” 

“Why didn’t you tell him? I would if I knew 
all this.” 

“I’m going to. But then he’s a man and he’d 
have to argue it?” 

“Well, I think you could crush him. I believe 
you are a skeptic philosopher— a—” 

“No sir! Skeptical only as to the future of 
your sex; otherwise, wholly orthodox. Jerusalem 
is my Mecca.” 

“Yes, well, if you will write down all youtell 
me it will mecca commotion.” 


174 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“You made a pun, Mr. McKenzie, and it’s 
shameful.” 

“it is more than the Sphinx could do,” he 
said. 

“Why?” says she. 

“Because its mouth will never o-pun! ” 

And they laughed and chatted— and my ! 
what a happy time they were having, when a 
door was heard to open, and the shrill voice of 
an apocalyptic cherub was heard in the hall. 

“Oh dear, how angelic that will be— to have 
the conservatory open to the birds. I love birds — 
I love everything. I must tell Mr. Jones!” The 
Assistant Secretary of the Treasury gazed upon 
his sister in deep dismay— was it birds, or love, 
that she would confide to Mr. Jones? “And by 
the wav, who is Jones, anyhow?” — thought the 
thus-far uninformed brother of slender Esterella. 

The party swept into the library through a 
mistake in the door, made with purposeful intent, 
by the sweet, absent-minded creature, who loved 
everything. Of course an introduction followed. 

It was not a “taking” scene. The lady Ester- 
ella was with her brother— and m his behalf her 
lofty spirit soared to wonted heights in the pres- 
ence of Mr. Raphael McKenzie. Her precise 
words were a trifle snubbish at times, and Raphael 
even became somewhat skittish. Bertha watched 
them, as she observed later, with a “pocket full of 
fun.” 

But they were soon left alone— the three. 

And now Bertha nerved herself for the fateful 
scene. She arose, properly enough, at first to leave 
the room. Marian called her back nervously. 


SENSATIONAL FIZZLE. 


175 


“Stay, Bertha, we will all go down to dinner 
together. After dinner, music; after music — ” 

“Philosophy,” put in Raphael. 

“And after philosophy?” asked Bertha. 

“More philosophy,” he answered. 

But this was making no progress with the 
tragic work at hand. It was veneering the 
anxietv in two anxious hearts— and Bertha made 
a plunge into the maelstrom. 

“Mr. McKenzie, we have been trying to find 
out who it was that struck down Mr. Knox. 

It was true that Raphael McKenzie looked up 
startled, and did not reply. “He is waiting for us 
to lead him to an answer, thought Bertha, while 
Marian’s heart beat a little faster. 

“Yes,” continued Bertha, watching him with 
terrible earnestness, “and we think we know the 
man /” 

“You do?” cried McKenzie, moving his feet 
suddenly, and turning red in the face. It grew 
dark to Marian. 

“Yes, positively.” 

“That is fortunate, indeed,” replied Mc- 
Kenzie. “I knew there was something under your 
mysterious silence over the matter. I never un- 
derstood why you did not send me a telegram. I 
was so near.” 

“'How near?” asked Marian, in a low voice. 

“At a meeting of our directors in Jersey City 
—I could have been here in an hour! They al- 
ways know my whereabouts at the hotel.” 

The curtain had risen tremulously on the 
“great scene.” It rolled down again as quietly as 


176 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

the snow falls. The match was fired— there was 
no explosion. The act was over. 

Not quite over! Bertha was in a predicament. 
She had declared they knew the man ! 

“Who is the man?” asked McKenzie. 

Bertha had reached the end of her rope. 
Philosophy was off on a visit. Marian fidgeted. 
Bertha blushed. 

There was a painful pause— then Marian fled 
the room. 

“What is the matter with these women, any- 
way?” asked McKenzie. 

“Why, Mr. McKenzie, I will tell you, now that 
Miss Marian is out. The man who struck that 
blow looked just like you!” 

It was said. “Lucky I was out of town,” 
observed he of the large frame, grey clothes and 
beardless face. 

“Oh, it didn’t matter. We were going to have 
a little joke on you, but you spoiled it by saying 
you were away from the city— and Marian, poor 
thing, she couldn’t get beyond the first wink I 
gave her. I presume she is crying now to think 
she consented !” 

And when the girl returned, sure enough, there 
were the unmistakable evidences. 

They went to the dining-room, and the tre- 
mendous sensation was a fizzle. It ended in 
deviled chicken and all its attendants. 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 177 


CHAPTER XXI. 

“three millions !” 

The storm began to gather over McKenzie’s 
head. He was building a mammoth structure, 
and to tremble visibly was to fail. His strong, 
stern, manly face, as he moved among capitalists 
and operators, had as much to do with his appar- 
ent success as the merits of the syndicate. His 
stock was listed on the board, and speculation 
had already begun, along with other new ven- 
tures, with occasional sales and purchases. 

“Mr. Jones,” said Marian, one day in her 
father’s office, “What is the cash in the four 
banks and the vaults — the available cash— sub- 
ject to check by last evening’s balances?” 

“Nearly a million of dollars?” 

“How much is my own individual deposit?” 

“About $160,000.” 

“How much can I raise at once on the Ash- 
burn Block?” 

“Well I should say $200,000 !” 

“And what is Kitteraugua Coal stock 
worth?” 

“Probablv 107.” 

“Sell my 3,000 shares and bank the $214,- 
000 . 

“Yes, Miss Marian.” 

“What would my check as attorney on 
father’s collateral in the Security vault be good 
for?” 


178 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“Oh, goodness knows, Miss Marian— a million 
perhaps ! Shall I get you an inventory ?” 

“No, Mr. Jones, but I wish you would see the 
President of the Marine and Land Loan Bank 
and tt 11 him that by two o’clock to-morrow after- 
noon, 1 may check out any amount under a mil- 
lion!” 

“Goodness gracious, child,” said Jones, thor- 
oughly alarmed. “Do I hear rightly? Beg your 
pardon, Miss Knox for saying so — but those are 
terrific amounts of cash for a young lady to 
handle.” 

Marian smiled. 

“Mr. Jones, I am my father’s self in business. 
I would wonder if you were not surprised when 
forty-eight hours are passed. I will do things 
you never knew a girl to do before!— but I am no 
longer a girl, I am a woman.” 

“Shall I assist you Miss Marian? I have 
never hesitated to follow when your judgment 
led.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jones, I want your aid, presence, 
courage, calmness. I have made up my mind. 
We are on the eve of the greatest battle ever 
known on the Stock Exchange of this country. If 
I dared, I could tell you in what manner, but if 
the conflict lasts two days, the exchanges o? 
Europe will be concerned. I shall not retreat 
now. To-morrow will see the fortunes of a thou- 
sand operators tossed up and down in frenzied 
struggles.” 

“And do you tell me child, that you, you , are 
to fight this battle!” 

“Yes, grave Mr. Jones, I, a girl, shall throw 


“THREE MILLIONS/ 


179 


down a challenge, unseen and unknown, to the 
combined hosts of Wall Street! If they knew 
their opponent, they could crush me in a twink- 
ling. My safety lies in secrecy.’ ’ 

“I almost doubt my senses in hearing this,” 
replied Jones, his face ashy pale and his voice 
trembling. “Why have I never known anything 
of this? Why do I know nothing of it now?’’ 

“Because, Mr. Jones, you are faithful and 
trustworthy in business, and not familiar with 
love!” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said the 
lawyer, thinking of the kiss he planted on Ester- 
ella’s finger nail the night before. “Will jou 
kindly use me now, as a friend, and tell me what 
you propose to do?” 

“Mr. Jones, once a young man, a mere boy, 
leaped across a furnace mouth of fiery molten 
iron, and saved my father from a terrible death — 
at a risk so great, that only a miracle saved his 
own life — and that with a broken limb. That boy 
became a great man. He is the head of a gigan- 
tic corporation, with twenty millions of capital — 
and is practically a trustee in the matter of from 
five to ten millions paid up. Now you know who 
I mean?” 

“Yes, if it is the great Transcontinental Con- 
struction Co. !” 

“That is it— and Raphael McKenzie not only 
saved my father’s life— but he is my lover, and I 
hope my future husband.” 

“Yes, yes,” broke in the lawyer, with the 
picture of Esterella dancing before him. 

“There is a great combine to crush him out. 


12 


180 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

At least fifty New York and Boston capitalists 
and Washington politicians, are in the ring. The 
Secretary of the Treasury is secretly at its head. 
Yanderkill is the engineer. Dodds is fireman, and 
the mob are in the coaches— all to down this 
young man, who saved my father’s life— a hero! 
What would you do, Mr. Jones? 

‘‘Fight-fight begad! Yes, fight till the last 
armed foe expires!” And Jones was on his feet, 
with arms aloft. 

“You will be with us?” asked the girl, with 
quivering lip. 

“With you? I’ll stand by you as long as 
there is a banker unhung! I’ll be your lackey, 
your Mercury, your Ajax! We’ll save that boy, 
begad, if I have to open up my own bank ac- 
count.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Jones, I thank you.” 

“How do you propose to do the work, Miss 
Knox?” 

“Well, in the first place, Raphael is to know 
nothing of what I do. He will probably give up 
early. He is a new member of the Board. He 
will see his stock knocked down and kicked out. 
We must not let him sell unless directed by us. 
But he must not know that I am back of it.” 

“Who will be your brokers?” 

“I will have but one— Hayman, the broken- 
down speculator. He will pick out a few assis- 
tants.” 

“He is a strange man.” 

“Yes he is— and more strange than I have any 
right to tell you. He is a mystery. We will go 


“THREE MILLIONS.” 181 

at once and meet him, at a room selected in the 
Burns Block.” 

‘‘And how much do you propose to risk in the 
battle with the golden calf?” 

“Every cent we have in the world, except our 
home and the Poolville interests. But do not 
fear. We have that with us which is a power be- 
hind the throne of gold. We have two. wonderful 
resources— Right and Ben-Israel! A woman’s 
genius gave us the last!” 

Mr. Jones bowed his head for a moment. He 
lifted it and looked at Marian seriously. “As a 
member of the firm, having your father’s interests 
in charge, I am compelled to state that you do 
wrong to risk so vast a fortune in this manner. 
You war with soulless men.” 

“Think you I will leave this man, our creditor 
at the throne of heaven, to be devoured by 
wolves? — T am not made of so slight elements!’” 

“If not weak, then be strong in judgment. 
Sacrifice a million— save the rest.” 

“That magnificient manhood should have 
every cent though it were ten times the amount.” 

“You are a faithful girl— a grand woman. I 
will say no more!” 

“Will you kindly give me a memorandum of 
those items?” The lawyer footed his pencillings. 
She asked him how much was the total. 

“Three millions!” Even Marian was now 
startled. 

“If it were thirty, he should have them all,” 
she said slowly and earnestly, half aloud. 


182 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


“1,685— 1,693— 2,321. ” 

It was to be a great day on the Stock Ex- 
change. The little breezes had been blowing up 
and down the curb for a day or two. Only four 
men actually knew of all the facts regarding the 
combine against the Transcontinental Contruc 
tion Co. on this Wednesday morning. These four 
were Yanderkill, Roberts, Doods’ . 

Israel Hayman was the fourth. 

On the Monday afternoon before, the Hebrew 
received the following despatch by cable :— 

“789—1,685. Expect 970 on 59 Wednesday. 
1,685. 1,693. 2,321. Under these numbers you 
may 362 — 469 of 351. 5 — 3 — 8. 

351.” 

“Be watchful. Expect the great conflict on 
’Change Wednesday. Be watchful. Be wise. Be 
prudent. Under these numbers you may call on 
left branch of Paris House. Wire Council Judge.” 

On that Wednesday morning the giants were 
at work early— and were on ’Change before open- 
ing. Their weakness lay not in financial re- 
sources, skill or experience ; but rather in the un- 
wieldy manner of its distribution. 

On the other side it was reckoned that there 
was but one man— inexperienced. He had a giant 
frame and a great hand. But avoirdupois does 
not count in finance. And the bears particularly 


“ 1 , 685 — 1 , 693 — 2 , 321. 1 


183 


Roberts, were over-confident. The bears knew 
nothing of that radiant, hopeful, sacrificial maid- 
en back of Transcon stock — nor did McKenzie! 
So far as he knew, when he walked down Broad- 
way that morning, and turned into Wall and 
Broad, he walked to meet approaching battle 
alone. But he had a breastplate under his outer 
garments which gave him wonderful protection — 
he owned no “margin” stock— he could not be 
“called” for cash. Others in the Company were 
not so protected. But none of their strong men 
were there, though he was to immediately tele- 
graph the Philadelphia interest, as soon as the 
battle began. McKenzie could not he sure when 
the assault would be made. 

Had not Vanderkill and Dodds had a recent 
experience with Knox, over-confidence would 
have led to very slight preparation indeed. But 
now they had at least a scheme. They proposed 
to unload 150,000 shares of Transcon the first 
hours of the session, by |twenty different parties, 
and, of course, the scalpers would fall into the 
move. All possible exchanges of deals between 
the dozen in the movement were to be cancelled as 
soon as made, if either party desired, and called 
upon the other for the erasure. 

it would be folly to suggest that a plan so 
generally worked did not become known to the 
crowd. It did. But the clique had so industrious- 
ly circulated disparaging statements regarding 
Transcontinental that the innumerable crowd of 
small operators took it for granted that the 
great corporation was a flimsy affair. 

The ball opened very quietly. Men were gath- 


184 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

ored around the posts of their favorite secuiities, 
as usual Dodds was moving around the floor 
with natural step, when someone called for 200 
shares of Transcontinental. Dodds quickly offer- 
ed 200 at 50-at 49%-200 or 1,000-2,000! 
Offers came from different parts of the room to 
sell Transcon. A few purchases were made at 49, 
and they were cancelled in secret. Then a stal- 
wart voice was heard offering 2500 Transcon at 
48J<, 48%, 48% — 48 ! 

The battle was begun. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


TWO MILLIONS IN HER GIRDLE— LOADED FOR BEARS ! 

It would not be truthful to say that Marian 
ate breakfast as usual on this Wednesday morn- 
ing. It was at least two hours earlier than 
usual! And she did not consult her likes or dis- 
likes in the least. Pale and half-frightened at the 
work before her, she worried down a few mouth- 
fulls of toast, and then gave up so pleasureless a 
task. 

On arrival home the evening before, she found 
Bertha had gone to her own house. And now she 
realized what a necessity Bertha had become. 
She wrote her a sweet, girlish, happy kind of a 


TWO MILLIONS IN HER GIRDLE. 


185 


note — stating that she would soon join her in her 
retreat and be her twin-hermit. 

Ordering her carriage early, she bade her 
father farewell for the day, and drove down to the 
office of Lever, McBride & Jones, and found the 
junior member waiting by appointment. To- 
gether they went to her father’s office, instructed 
the clerks, noted all the balances of the day be- 
fore, took checks to be accepted, drafts and collat- 
erals, to the extent of two millions of dollars, and 
placed them in her girdle, in a pocket provided. 
Another million could be checked at will. Truly 
it was a remarkable act. Never before went a 
warrior so desperately armed, to such a conflict. 
Mr. Jones was a mere automaton — paralyzed at 
the stupendousness of what seemed a folly at one 
time — a Zenobian heroism at another. 

Not a sigh escaped her, not a smile illumined 
her Grecian face. Her cheeks were flushed with an 
unwonted glow. They stepped into the carriage. 

“Where shall I tell the driver, Semiramis?” 
asked Jones, who never changed the solemnity of 
his face in the attempt at humor. 

“To Mrs. Reynolds,” she replied, in the same 
funereal tone. 

They were there in thirty minutes, and Bertha 
at the door. 

“Bertha,” cried Marian, “will you come with 
me to-day?” 

“Whereunto, my dear?” asked Bertha. 

“ ’Change — lots of work for us to-day,” Marian 
replied, as if going to a church social. 

“Oh, I want to go— will you wait for me to 
dress?” 


186 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“Just ten minutes, Bertha, sharp!” cried 
Marian. 

Bertha was there with ten seconds to spare. 
The three were then driven to the neighborhood 
of the Stock Exchange, Bertha quite ignorant of 
the scenes before her. They stopped in front of 
a plain brick structure, and entered a, narrow hall 
covered with old and new business placards. 
They climbed to the fourth floor and stood before 
a door labelled, “School Furniture.” Mr. Jones 
opened the door, and they entered an almost bare 
room, with one old table and three chairs, its only 
adornments. At the table sat Israel Hayman, 
with a number of documents laid out before him. 

He looked up, greeted Mr. Jones indifferently, 
and shook hands with the two women. With 
Bertha, he courtesied with grave demeanor and 
unusual solemnity. 

“This is a wild business, my daughter. Like 
so many of my brethren, I am a fatalist — but I 
cannot give up my judgment altogether. I fear 
this day will bring desolation upon us all. I can 
see it hovering over me.” 

Not a word was uttered for a few moments, 
all standing, with eyes upon the Jew. 

“it is not too late to retreat,” he continued. 

“Do you want to retreat?” Marian asked 
with a quiver of the lip. 

“I do,” replied Hayman.” “I see before me 
mighty shadows— they hang not over you — but 
over me.” 

It was a thrilling beauty that illumined 
Marian’s face at this moment, with her parted 
lips and anxious gaze, from eyes too brilliant for 


TWO MILLIONS IN HER GIRDLE. 187 

health. It was a maiden’s love weighted against 
a financier’s wisdom. But on the Jew’s counte- 
nance there was an ashen pallor scarcely mortal. 
It was the pallor of secret, unutterable fear. 

“I do; I at first scented a battle with the 
Ishmaelite and welcomed it. I am a Hebrew — and 
under vow before Jehovah. But between God and 
myself there is that of which thou canst not even 
dream.” 

“8eer,” observed Bertha, with one of her in- 
spired flames in her heart, “leave the sacred 
‘h’ out of your Ishmaelite — then are you afraid of 
Ismael — or the enemies of your God and mine?” 

Israel Hayman gave evidence of the most pro- 
found surprise — even consternation. 

And then he bowed half way to the floor. 
“No, daughter, I am not afraid of the Arab — 
Is-mail lias lost his cunning. But these are the 
children of Esau, who sell birthrights for a din- 
ner! And thou knowest not that power which 
lies behind Esau, to wither and destro}^.” 

“Thou are not afraid?” replied the young 
woman. 

“Thou knowest not of what you speak,” re- 
plied Hayman. 

“Can fear move thee from thy vow to 
Jehovah?” said Bertha, with uplifted hand. 

“As there is one God, and his name is Israel, 
so is Ben-Israel not afraid. To die is but little — ■ 
there is that which is more than death. We trust 
our God more than you your Christ!” 

“Not so, Father; for you carry our Christ in 
your very name!” 


188 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


“How so, wonderful woman— is it more sor- 
cery ?” 

“Aye, of that kind that will recall thee to the 
sacred vow thou gavest me to aid this dear girl . 
I know not what it is she asks— I am ignorant of 
that— as I was ignorant of purpose when called to 
thee before. But God and our Christ are calling 
thee— thee, Israel !— to let no fear apostatize thee !” 

“If thou wilt give me the voice of my God or 
thy Christ, 1 will hearken and obey,” said the 
Jew with a confident light in his eyes, “even 
though the awfulness of Maranatha overtake 
me.” 

“Art thou named ‘IsraelV And is thy 
Hebrew language read from right to left?” in- 
stantly taking up the challenge. 

“Thou art right! ” 

“Then read thy name, Is-ra-el, aright, and be- 
hold : El, the father from all ages ; Ra, the son of 
God from all known time, and Is, or Is-is, the 
Holy Spirit, from the days when Ramesis careen- 
ed in golden chariot, over the sands of the Nile!” 

It is not saying too much to state that 
Marian and Jones were both astounded at this 
mastercraft, and the Jew utterly stupefied. The 
intense pallor of his face gave place to a deep 
flush. 

He did not speak at once. 

“I invoke your aid, Ben-Israel, for this child — 
in the name of God and his witness of your vow ! 
In the name of Juda’s lion-and-the-unicorn ! — go 
forth to battle.” 

The old man’s head was u pin ted. It fell 
^trembling to his side. 


TWO MILLIONS IN HER GIRDLE. 


189 


“I am no longer young*,” he muttered. “The 
bloom is blown from the olive, the temple is the 
habitation of bats.” 

“Till the times and times and half-a-times— 
do turn and turn and overturn! Readest thou 
thy Targums, Ben-Israel?” 

“I read on the wall, children, that the Philis- 
tine is strong. It is fifty millions against three! 
But that is nothing. There is a power that can 
crush all millions— all thrones — and my life lies 
within its shadow.” 

“Father,” said Marian, leaning forward and 
touching his arm, “where are the twenty thou- 
sand millions in the mighty exchequer of thy—” 

“Child!” interrupted Israel Hayman, excited- 
ly — “let not thy anxiety lead thee beyond pru- 
dence!” 

“Alas,” murmured Marian, “has McKenzie 
no friend?” 

“Yes,” mused Hayman, “such a friend as no 
man ever had and suffered.” 

“How so, sir?” 

“Thou wilt see. How much credit hast thou 
with thee?” 

“Full two millions!” uttered Marian, quickly 
and excitedly, “and one million in reserve.” The 
words frightened Bertha. It dawned upon her 
that some mighty matter was in hand. Even the 
Jew seemed staggered. The silence for a moment 
was intense. 

“It is a vast sum— but not enough to win this 
battle.” 

“It is enough to lose — for such a friend,” she 
replied. “I can see that fiery furnace now, Israel 


190 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

Hayman, over which leaps a life for a life! — and 
into that furnace shall it all go — and pay the 
debt!” 

“It cannot be done. I cannot yield. It is 
impossible. It is fifty millions against three— re- 
treat, retreat!” 

The girl mused. Israel thought her reflecting, 
and awakening to the facts as he saw them. 
Bertha’s lion heart trembled lest Marian should 
waver. Marian spoke. 

“Israel Ha) man, I can see that failure would 
injure you — injure your prestige— injure those 
mysterious relations to the great power behind 
the thrones of the world. But it is not so with 
me. I can only be injured by proving false to the 
trust God puts upon my soul. I shall fight this 
battle alone!” Her hand was uplifted — her face 
filled with wondrous and majestic beauty. She 
repeated— “I shall fight this battle alone!— let 
God judge, and give the victory!” 

“I am sorry for you, daughter,” replied the 
Jew, and sank upon a chair. “Thou seest but a 
tremble of the battle within my soul. Thou canst 
not even dream of such dangers as I behold.” 
Marian moved to the door. She turned her lithe 
and willow v figure at the threshold, and returned 
to the Hebrew. 

“My father has won many a battle in this 
great game of fate. But never when he trembled 
at the beginning.” 

“Master,” interrupted Bertha, “still I know 
not what lies in the balance between she and thee. 
Answer me this, thou Maccabean— canst thou 


TWO MILLIONS IN HER GIRDLE. 


191 


help and will not?— or wouldst thou and can- 
not?” 

“I we would not win!” replied the seer, 

evading the girl. 

“Belief is swayed by will, Israel Hayman — say 
‘we will win V ” said Marian. 

“It would not be true.” 

“Make it true.” 

No people in the world are so free from the 
impulse and influence of female charms, as the 
Abrahamic— notwithstanding their Semite origin. 
And it was evident that externals had nothing to 
do with the conflict raging in his breast. The 
personal graces of Marian appealed in vain. But 
he was completely overwhelmed by the powerful 
intellectuality of Bertha Reynolds — and the refer- 
ence to his vow had been burning in his brain. 
He remembered the number in his despatch: “Be 
wise. Be prudent.” But the vow was stronger 
than instruction — Jehovah was its sponsor. 

“Truly, children,” he said, “with such 
daughters as thou art Lebanon would still spread 
abroad the light which is now closed to the world 
forever! As God has never deserted me — in my 
sorrows, in my joys — so I will never desert thee! 
I am with you, and with you to the end. We will 
enter into this conflict. I see farther than thine 
eyes — aye, things beyond all knowledge. You 
must away from here immediately. Delay not. I 
will carry out the plan prepared— to the end. The 
peace and promise of God go with you. Leave me 
to myself.” 

Marian said not a word and was sad. But 


192 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


the fair Serapian was never more happy than at 
that precious moment of triumph. 

The three departed. They went into the 
gallery of the Exchange. The battle had already 
begun ! 

But for one moment the Jew dropped into his 
chair, and laid his head upon the table, great 
drops of sweat trickling through his fingers — -and 
a mighty sia*h bursting from his shivering frame! 
He murmured two significant phrases ; 

“ 1693 — 2321 .” 


CHAPTER XXI Y. 


“margins \” 

The Stock Exchange was crowded with its 
host of men, who were ever and ever leaping into 
the maelstrom of contentious forces. A one-sided 
fusillade was in progress, carried on by the sellers. 
Ohio and Mississippi tumbled several points, Cen- 
tral weakened, Chesapeake was sickly— and news 
came over from the Produce Exchange that wheat 
had dumped l%c,. in the first twenty minutes. It 
was an auspicious day for the bears. 

When Marian took her seat in the gallery, 
with Bertha on one side, and “Esterella’s G. J.,” 
(as Bertha named the attorney), on the other, 


“MARGINS ! ! 


193 


Transcon was down two cents, but was by no 
means the only victim of bruin’s spite. The at- 
tack was cautious, evidently. McKenzie was on 
hand, wandering around, apparently a mere spec- 
tator—^ “enjoying” the unusual scene now rapidly 
developing. By the time Israel Hayman arrived, 
and a messenger boy reached Marian, Transcon 
had dropped from 50 to 47c. The note from 
Hayman read as follows : 

“I send you this messenger boy. When he 
comes to me, another boy which I keep by, will 
take his place. Be prepared to see me carry out 
our plan to the full — without fear. Use great 
nerve. Keep Mr. Jones off the floor, lest suspi- 
cions arise. 1 will inform McKenzie, as if from his 
Philadelphia bankers, that he must neither buy 
nor sell until he gets word from them. Wired 
at 10 a man to take first train from Philadel- 
phia.” 

McKenzie came up in the gallery to see them 
for a moment. He did not appear to be worried. 

She took his hand. He pressed it until the 
customary, “Oh, you hurt,” came from her lips — 
and he returned to the floor. He knew that un- 
less some Providence came and carried off the 
gates of Gaza he was in fact, a ruined man. And 
he saw no Providence with gates in his arms. He 
did not look often to the gallerv— “For how,” he 
muttered, “can a ruined man ask that splendid 
girl to be his wife?” 

An hour had passed since the Exchange had 
opened. Every moment the excitement grew. 
There were often as many bids for Transconti- 


194 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

nental as offers to sell. Scalpers, or small opera- 
tors, who sold at 50, 49, 48 or even 46 were con- 
stantly seeking to buy in their sales and rake in 
profits lest the tide turn on them. No one could 
tell whether this was an organized effort to stay 
the fall or not. It was Dodd’s business to watch 
McKenzie, but he reported “Mac” off on the 
“Lackawanna” post, reading a newspaper! 

The most that the bears could discover, was 
four or five small operators here and there, buy- 
ing in 50 and 100 share lots, and never selling. 
This raised their suspicions— Israel Hay man’s 
deep grey eyes saw them pointing out these men. 
He instantly got word to them secretly, to stop 
buying and sell. Hay man, himself, had sold from 
the start. But he now began to buy. His five 
operators had not bought in over three thousand 
shares altogether— all at a profit on Hayman’s 
sales— if transferred to his card. And that was 
precisely what was done. But, Hayman, much to 
the pleasure of the bears, was now fully fifteen 
thousand short-sold from 48 to 47%, %, %, and 
46. The stock was now down to 45%. Israel 
stood beside Vanderkill. Van offered 5,000 
shares at 45. 

“Mine!” shouted Hayman. 

Vanderkill was amazed, and looked curiously 
at the Jew. 

“Covering shorts!” said the latter, “45 for 
5,000 Transcon,” he shouted again. 

“Will give you 2,500,” said Perkins, a heavy 
dealer, who was thought by many to represent 
Roberts. 


“MARGINS ! 


195 


“Mine,” said the Jew, “45 for 5,000!” he cried 
yet again. 

Dodds came up and whispered to him, “Are 
you covering— or are you under the stock?” 

“I am 20,000 short, and buying on commis- 
sions,” replied the Jew to the Gentile! The mar- 
ket felt the impulse of these heavy purchases in 
blocks, and the scalpers alarmed, began to buy in 
also — until the stock threatened to recover. 

This was the time for the bears to rush. As if 
by a common inspiration a half-dozen men in dif- 
ferent groups began to sling off lots of a thousand 
shares at a time, and soon the margin checks to 
secure the large transactions, began to appear in 
the hands of both buyer and seller. 

At this time, Bertha’s attention was continu- 
ously upon Hayman. She expected to see him 
dare the whole exchange, and buy in everything 
that offered ; but was astounded and frightened to 
see him sell on a larger scale than ever! The 
stock was down again to 45. 

“2,000 shares at 44% !” cried Hayman! No 
buyers. “2,000 at 44% !” he shouted. Margins 
were called on him by a heavy bear, who went 
short at 46, and was willing to buy in. 

“In one moment,” said the Hebrew, and whis- 
pered to his messenger boy. Marian saw the 
move and quickly drew an acceptance from her 
girdle for $200,000, drawn in the name of a Bos- 
ton house. The boy was at Hayman’s side in a 
moment, and no operator knew, thanks to 
Marian’s readiness, whence the messenger boy 
came ! 

Hayman quickly tore open the envelope, and 


196 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

waved the cheek — the shares were sold! “2,000 
shares at 44%— 4-4,%— 44%”— and so the fever went 
on, the mad elements yelling and crowding and 
shouting, the stock steadily dropping. Bertha 
was sorely disappointed and anxious. Surely 
Hay man was betraying them ! It was all Marian 
could do to keep her calm. 

“Why, child, this is only the prelude; 40 is a 
big price — wait until the storm comes! ” 

“Oh, but I can’t, I can’t! poor McKenzie !” 
the other replied, half crying. 

“Bless you, dear, if you could see our own ac- 
count now, I presume you would find that Hay- 
man has made a profit of $50,000 !” 

Hay man was seen to confer with a little dap- 
per fellow with whom he had not spoken before — 
but whose presence there was costing him $500 an 
hour. “Bell,” he said to him, “I am now 30,000 
shares short. Average 43. Get the whole 
amount in at 40 if you can— or below. But have 
your men, under no account, offer, themselves, to 
buy. Let them always buy in on seller’s offers!” 

It was interesting in the gallery, to those 
three persons, under Marian’s guidance, to watch 
the movement of that man Bell. In five minutes, 
by arrangements at certain posts, he had five 
entirely new men under the noses of the princi- 
pal bears, bickering and dickering for one and 
two thousand lots at a time, everyone showing a 
short account and heavy profits, and therefore, 
no margins. When insisted on, they everyone 
had heavy acceptances on the Philadelphia house 
of the Jays, signed by Bell. Bell was there on a 
telegram in cypher, from “351” Paris ! I 


MARGINS ! ! 


197 


The stock was now driven down to 40— and 
the question was, Would it break into the 30’s? 
Israel Hayman settled that point. Not having- 
time to show up profits — and certainly no dis- 
position to do so— he sent for another $200,000 
margin check. This, to the wonder of Vanderkill, 
was an acceptance by Belford of New York City. 
With this, the Hebrew cried, “2500 Transcon at 
39% — 39 % — %\” It was taken in by a scalper. 

Not one of the three heavy bears had yet 
covered in any of their sales. They had probably 
shaken out 100,000 shares! The transactions by 
the scalpers and speculators, buying and selling 
were enormous. 

Dodds came to Hayman, by some intuitive 
impulse, and whispered, “Hayman, I am $300,000 
up on margins for sales ! In God’s name, tell me 
— is it safe? I have $200,000 in profits, if I could 
buy in now. But it is my last cent ; if there should 
be riot on the turn and I could not buy in, I am 
ruined. Tell me— you are the one man whom I 
trust and distrust!” There was an unmistakable 
look of anguish and honesty on the man’s face. 

The old Ben-Israel looked up at the tall, 
handsome man— the father of five splendid chil- 
dren. His heart inclined to mercy. He turned 
to him and whispered in his ear:— “It will go 
lower— go to 30 or 25. But I tell you to buy in 
and be satisfied — buy slowlv; and if your other 
fellows get on to it, you are a dead man— I will 
destroy you root and branch ! Get in every 
share before 30! But if you act not wisely look 
well to yourself.” 


198 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“2500 at 37!” was the cry from Vanderkill, 
and no takers. 

“5,000 at 36,” from Perkins! No takers. 

“Oh, this is awful,” said Bertha, in the 
gallery. “We will soon be able to hear nothing — 
— such an awful roar ! Men began to shriek their 
small sales. They were under the covers of the 
great bears, and scalped with tremendous success. 
Five hundred men were making fortunes off from 
someone! At times there were actual shrieks to 
sell! Down went the stock — men tumbled over 
each other to sell — sell at any price. The bears 
themselves, the three, held a consultation, and 
withdrew for a time from the sellers. It w r as 
moving down now of its own weight ! That was 
what they had striven for ! 

This was heaven for Dodds. He went into an 
obscure corner, and in ten minutes had secured 
enough to cover at least three-fourths of his 
sales at an enormous profit. He then discovered 
a sharp eye on him, and desisted. It was Bell. 
But no man knows who is for or against him, in 
that whirlpool of strife. 

The yelling now became unbearable, and cries 
for silence were heard— but it was of no avail. 
Jones had to go below on Mr. Knox’s ticket, to 
find out how it stood. He returned with a fright- 
ened expression. 

“It is down to 28 and still tumbling! One 
man was knocked senseless by another who re- 
fused his check. Four firms have failed and they 
say the Jays, of Philadelphia, are trembling with 
their ten millions at stake. Oh, it is awful ! It is 
hell!” 


“MARGINS !’ 


199 


“And yet/’ said Marian, calmly as a queen at 
the head of a court, “and yet you have not seen 
the worst! Two checks only have gone — and 
eight remain — and there is the invisible power be- 
hind that Hebrew mystery ! If the bears are not 
broken by these three millions, the world will be 
shaken. Israel's vow is back of this struggle— 
Jehovah is back of that vow.” 

A shout at this time arose from below. It 
was the fall of one of the strongest firms of stock- 
brokers in the city ! Transcon was down to 25 ! 

Failures followed in quick succession. 

Marian received a note from Hayman at this 
juncture: 

“ I am sixty thousand shares short. The 
turn will come in ten minutes! Yanderkill will be 
the first victim. Look in the door-way of the 
office of the Exchange, and you will see your 
enemy. Send Mr. Jones to me at once, with a 
million dollars in securities!” 


Six envelopes were handed to Mr. Jones. 
“The time has come! The time has come!” and 
now Marian’s hand trembled, and her voice 
gasped hvsterically— “Oh, those poor men— those 
poor men!” and the tears fell from her eyes invol- 
untarily! Knowing what was coming, it was too 
much for her. Now Bertha’s womanhood arose to 
grandeur! She threw her arms around the neck 
of the girl and kissed her, and soothed her! It 
was nothing, in that mighty commotion ! No 
one cared or thonght of such a trifling scene! 

Yanderkill stood upon a box he had found j 


200 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

ten inches higher than his fellows. He had sold 
now r , 50,000 shares personally, and probably, if 
the stock did not violently recover, Avould stand 
in a million dollars profit at least. He was 
triumphant, violent, arrogant. 

Not twenty feet from him stood the old 
broker, who had been farther short than Vander- 
kill by 10,000 shares. But at this moment, he 
had covered through Bell twenty thousand of his 
shorts — and now stood 40,000 sold. By the side 
of Israel, was the tali spare Jones. Behind him 
was Bell. Within a few feet, but all within the 
howling mob, were the five under-brokers. 

“Get me something to stand on if you hav# 
to break a post off!” said Hayman to a messen- 
ger. 

“I can’t do it,” said the youth. 

“Here,” said McKenzie, who just then crowd- 
ed up to the old man, minus his hat and cravat, 
“Here, Bell, bend your knee— here is mine. Get 
up there Hayman!” Bell had just sent word to 
McKenzie that a mightv change would come now, 
and that he w r as to buy all he could get ! And he 
hurried in, his tall form moving along like a mar- 
shal of Napoleon! A subordinate took Raphael’s 
place in a moment, and his great stern face, full 
of command, surveyed the mob. McKenzie sup- 
posed that Philadelphia bankers were in the new 
deal. 

Israel Hayman also glanced around. He 
bent his cold, steely, merciless eyes upon Vander- 
kill. The latter saw that glance, and he knew 
that something was near at hand . But he was as 
braggart as ever ! 


“MARGINS !” 


201 


“5,000 at 24% !” lie cried triumphantly. 

“Margins,” called Hayman, coolly. Vander- 
kill scowled. 

“Profits on 50,000 short at average of 35,” 
said Vanderkill. 

“Failure of the firms,” returned the Jew. 
“Margins !” 

“$100,000,” said Vanderkill, turning in his 
paper. 

“Taken,” responded the Hebrew. 

“5,000 at 24!” shouted Perkins. 

“Taken, with margins,” said Hayman! 
“Sold with call of margins from purchaser,” re- 
turned Perkins. 

“Profits on 40,000 short,” replied the Jew. 

“Firms fail,” retorted Perkins. 

Hayman placed his hand behind him, and 
held up a draft, “Acceptance of $250,000!” 

“On whom?” 

“The Jays, Philadelphia.” This produced a 
sensation, and staggered the bears for a moment. 

They were still in doubt as to the real 
attitude of Hayman — who had been constantly a 
seller — and no one but Vanderkill, among the 
bears, really measured his possible power. 

A messenger left the office of the Secretary of 
the Exchange, where sat Julius Roberts! In his 
hand was a draft for $500,000 ! 

“5,000 Transcon at 24!” cried Vanderkill! 

“Margins,” shouted the Jew! The wild 
throng were sobered by this turn of affairs— a 
man 40 to 60,000 short, and a bear all day, de- 
manding margins, and putting up acceptances of 
the great Philadelphia house! Instantly the 


202 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

scalpers began to offer 24 % and % for small lots 
to cover ! It looked dangerous. 

Vanderkill took the envelope, tore it open, 
and shook out the check for $500,000 ! A shout 
went up from the sellers ! 

“Mine,” said the Jew. And then there was a 
pause for a moment, during which time the scal- 
pers pushed the price up to 25. And there it 
rested. Hay man was still short, as indicated by 
a slip placed in his hands, some ten thousand 
shares. He whispered to McKenzie, “Buy— Buy- 
ten thousand in lots of a thousand or even two 
thousand,” and placed an envelope in his hand. 

The great voice of the giant penetrated every 
corner of the hall, and rose above the din. 

“25% for 2,000!” 

Margins were called, and he turned in $200,- 
000 ! There was almost silence for a moment ! 

“Take them,” cried Vanderkill. The scalpers 
now had the stock at 26. 

“26 for 2,000!” again roared McKenzie— a 
sound that made Marian and her companions 
tremble with delight. 

“They are yours!” cried Vanderkill, defiant!* 

“26% for 5,000— for 6,000!” repeated Mc- 
Kenzie. Margins were called, and he produced 
them. 

Vanderkill was staggered for a moment. Per- 
kins came to his aid, and two other men— all offer- 
ing Transcon at 26% ! 

These were sold to men ravenous now to cover 
sales made before. 

Vanderkill was furious. He opened a note 
from Roberts: 


“MARGINS !’ 


203 


“You are 65,000 short. A million more will 
break them. They cannot have more margins — 
make a big leap. You put up $250,000. 1 will 
advance $750,000 for 90 days. Strike for a 
million— that will crush them.” 


“5,000 Transcon at 26% ! cried the banker, 
wildly. 

“Mine,” said Hay man coldly. 

“5,000 Transcon, at 26% !” Vanderkill yelled, 
insanely dropping the price in spite of the market ! 
Silence followed this — for at least a half minute. 

“Margins,” called Hay man. 

The drafts were by this time prepared, and 
Yanderkill shouted. “Now let us have this busi- 
ness over with. Here are drafts and acceptances 
for one million dollars!” 

A shout went up from the crowd, and even the 
scalpers were silent a moment. 

But the tumult began immediately, and the 
bears sold with redoubled fury. 

“5,000 at 26%,” repeated Yanderkill with 
great arrogance. 

“Mine,” responded Havman! 

“Margins,” cried Yanderkill, with a- sneer. 

Eight envelopes were torn open, and one after 
another, the drafts were placed in the hands of 
McKenzie to sum up. 

“How much?” asked Israel, in a loud voice. 

“One million, six hundred thousand dollars!” 
was the reply. 

“I will take 5,000, 10,000 and 15,000 shares 
at 27,” said the Jew calmly. 

There was no reply. 


204 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“I will take 10,000 shares at 28,” thundered 
McKenzie. 

Roberts came into the room and whispered to 
Perkins. 

“Vanderkill has margins to cover all that— 
sell, sell!” 

And the offers were taken. A faint shout 
went up from the sellers. “Now,” said Hayman, 
“I will take 5, 10 and 15,000 shares more at 28.” 

This was the break. A terrible uproar fol- 
lowed. Men shouted to the Jew for more mar- 
gins. He was heard to cry out — “Yes, twenty 
millions at sight” — but it was not heard. He did 
not get his stock. Pandemonium broke loose. 
The sellers yelled for stock, and yelled for mercy ! 
Ruin stalked across that floor! It swept over 
that miserable palace of Chance. Transcon im 
ten minutes was up to 40. In fifteen minutes the 
mighty pool was prostrate— the Exchange closed 
—and beggars went forth. Men who sold at 24 to 
39 had to settle at awful losses over the advance 
too rapid for them to keep pace with. There were 
sad faces! There were doubtless broken* hearts. 
Despair alone stood guard over many a home. 
By four o’clock the last of the warriors had de- 
parted. 

Vanderkill and Perkins were both bankrupted, 
and went to their ruined homes to see what “res- 
olution there was in despair.” 

Roberts was safe — and when alone, he smiled ! 

That is the way the world goes. But he kept 
out of sight for weeks, and in three months was 
removed from the treasury department. 

Dodds was ahead several thousand dollars. 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 295 

He would have been a millionaire but for the 
failure of firms which owed him heavy balances. 

Raphael McKenzie was thousands ahead. 
But he was still kept in profound ignorance of the 
fact that Marian was back of that mighty de- 
fense! 

The commissions of Israel Hay man amounted 
to $15,000, but Marian insisted upon dividing 
all profits, when, the second day after, their 
50,000 shares went up to 70, and their total 
profits were fully $250,000! This .would have 
been more than doubled, if Israel could have 
bought in, in spite of the turmoil. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

“AND WAS SEEN NO MORE OF EARTH.’ 

Bertha Reynolds would not drive to the office, 
and thence home with Marian, after the close of 
the Exchange that evening. They stood ready to 
leave the building, the gallery being deserted, 
save by these three. 

“No,” she said, “I am nervous, low-spirited 
and weary of this room. I must walk.” 

“Why, child, how can you— it is four or five 
miles?” 

“I know it. It will tire me dreadfully. If I 
must 1 can hail a cab. I need the exertion to rest 


200 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

my soul — it faints.” This was said sadly and im- 
pressively. 

“Bertha,” replied Marian, “you are reeling 
under the reaction of your great excitement. Do 
come with me. I will read to you. I will sing to 
you. We will sing together.” 

“You are so good, so sweet to me, dear friend. 

1 — I am so bad that it hurts me to have you so 
kind ! No, no! I cannot. I will not go with you 
tonight. I must fly from you! Oh! I love you, 
but I must fly— fly from everyone!” — the depres- 
sion after the excitement was so great that her 
voice was hysterical and sobbing. 

The young woman recked not whether 
strangers were by, but seized Marian around the 
neck and kissed her over and over again— while 
Mr. Jones discreetly moved to another part of 
the gallery. 

“Dear Bertha,” Marian said, with her arm 
also around the trembling woman — “there has 
been a barrier between us. I do not know what 
it is. But dear, with this kiss I forever melt that 
barrier away. I kiss you, and I love you— there! 
and there! Is that enough, dear?” 

The young woman, hanging on her neck, took 
a withered flower from Marian’s breast, kissed it, 
and placed it in her own bosom. She then let go 
her hold, passed quickly down the stairs, and out 
upon the street. She passed on rapidly to the 
eastward and northward, her eyes downcast, her 
heart oppressed, taking little reck of streets or 
jostling passers by. 

The reaction from the tense nervous strain of 
the day was terrible; and the sympathetic reader 


AND WAS SEEN NO MORE OF EARTH. 207 

will recall that just the last day before, her heart 
had rebelled against her double life, and she had 
gone to her own home ; her whole nervous system 
was overthrown. 

“This is the world I was born for!” she mur- 
mured. “The rush, the action, the excitement, the 
victory!” And then she added, “But it is Bum, 
on his mightv wing.” 

“I am wicked enough to gamble— yes, yes! 
with human lives and loves. And I have the 
power.” 

“But no, no! I am better now — she makes 
me better! There is no future for such as I am.” 

And so she mused, and paused in her musing, 
her eyes dry and burning from the salt of tears, 
her heart heavy with unbidden memories. A mist 
began to come down, as if to add a pall of misery 
to her soul ai}d uncleanness to her feet. But she 
heeded it not. 

“Another month, and Telford Knox will bear 
our secret to the grave— and I can stand spotless 
before Marian— walk all my days over dead lies, 
dead to all but me. I had rather live alone than 
live a lie— I— had— rather not live ! ’Twere better 
to rest.” 

“Was that a dream in which I saw Raphael 
Mclvenzie slay Telford Knox? How could that be 
a dream which I saw? And yet, so strong, so 
grand, so real! That mystery can die with me. 
Oh God !— canst thou not wash away other memo- 
ries — so that I may live — live?” 

And on they came, in troops, crowded up 
against the frail enclosure of her excited mind — 
peered from behind the years like flames creeping 


208 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

through dank and noisome brush ! — but when the 
suffering days of her betrayal came with the other 
thoughts, and with them the picture of the wretch 
who stole her from happiness and left her with 
accursed passions to fight the world alone, she 
could stand it no longer — the dream of horror 
pressed upon her soul, and she suppressed a 
shriek, with both hands to her mouth, her light 
summer shawl tightly clasped over her face. Had 
she been then in her home by the river-side the 
darkness and the waters would have brought 
surcease of sorrow. 

Her pace was quickened — through streets un- 
known — past miserable basement dens, and holes 
where fumes of hell fed human woe on human de- 
spair— and reaped its fruitage of crime! It was 
rapidly darkening into evening. And as her eyes 
peered out upon the misty lights her soul revolted 
from its festering thoughts, and shook itself 
free for a single second— the freedom that lies on 
dangerous confines — for she laughed ! 

A tall, burly fellow, coming out from a grog- 
shop as she passed, heard the laugh — it was a 
silvery sound — Bertha’s own sweet voice played 
upon the old lyre, but by a wild and maniac 
touch ! 

The man mistook her at first— for he was in- 
toxicated. He took hold of her and drew the 
shawl aside. They stood by the street lamp. “I 
know you!” he said, with a scowl across his great 
beardless face. “What do you want down here, 
my daisy— d-did ye c— come after me?” and he 
Iried to chuck her under the chin. 


AND WAS SEEN NO MORE OF EARTH. 209 


“Yon do not know me, sir! Nor do I know 
you — be off!” she answered bravely. 

“Oh, I d-don’t? Well, I do, honey. I know 
you as well as you know old Knox — old Knoxie, 
you know !” 

Bertha looked at him trembling in every joint. 
“I do not know vou sir!” 

“No, lovev, you don’t know me. But I know 
you. I 1-1-look like young McKenzie, don’t 1? — 
ha, ha! Tell him Bearman has a bone to pick 
with him. Tell him — ” 

Bertha stripped the shawl from her face, 
pushed herself arms length from the wretch, and 
looked him over with eyes thrust out from her 
ghastly face ! There were the old grey clothes still 
upon his giant body — the slouch hat — the beard- 
less face — all there ! 

“And your name is Bearman?” she gasped, 
with a terrible effort. 

“No, sweetness, it is n-not Bearman, it is 
McK-K-Kenzie. He’s the m-man you want.” 

Bertha looked at the vile, distempered, 
drunken face for a moment — and fled. She was 
more fleet than ever before, and in the darkness 
she could not see his following footstep. As soon 
as she reached a more respectable section of the 
city she found a cab and ordered it to her home. 

Fortunate fright. It lifted her for a moment 
from the pit into which her mind had fallen. The 
taint of the low poison of contact was still with 
her, and her heart sickened at the depths. But 
McKenzie was no longer a mystery ! 

It was well indeed for her that she fled quickly. 
Through the drunken haze within Bearman’s 


210 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

brain the idea crept with devilish power that the 
person who had just escaped him knew him to be 
a m urderer ! And his unbalanced mind was torn 
from its frail moorings. He hastened his unsteady 
footsteps. 

She was at home, at her own door. She rang 
with the knocker. Evidently the servant was not 
at home. The door was opened with a latch key, 
and throwing off her bonnet in the darkness, she 
sat down upon the couch and “rested.” This was 
“home,” but it was no longer a home to her. 
The Nemesis had alreadv seared her soul with a 
burning brand. There was but one relief for such 
despair ! She sat there an hour, and that relief 
did not come. In time, however, the one fair, 
honest love of her life came over her. She had 
stained it, it is true, with errant schemes, but 
now she was self-rebuked every time she fled from 
righteousness. This all came to her again, but in 
more kindly and gentler thoughts. The angel of 
repentence had knocked at the door, and Bertha 
had let the angel in. “If 1 could pray— as father 
prayed — I could fall upon my knees,” she said. 

“And pray for me?” she asked herself. 

“No,” she slowly answered, “that were sel- 
fish.” “I would pray for him!” and “him” meant 
Telford Knox. 

Surely, sweetly, the precious angel spread a 
mantle of kindly grace over the fainting sinner. 
And a light came unto her ; it beamed with gentle- 
ness and love. Under the evil in nature there are 
almost exhaustless fountains of good. 

Then the relief came, Bertha leaned forward, 
resting her face on both her hands, and wept — 


AND WAS SEEN NO MORE OF EARTH. 211 


wept aloud, w»pt long. It was a holy hour. 
With tears her soul was baptized unto a new life. 
The wild and wayward spirit lay down its arms ! 
Her love for Telford Knox was consecrated by the 
sacrificial priesthood of Death, lingering at his 
bedside. 

Blessed are ye, Oh ye tears of a yearning soul ! 

She arose from her seat, walked to the door 
and opened it. The mists had cleared away. She 
gazed upon the starry heavens, and with the glit- 
tering hosts as witnesses, she said in her old 
silvery voice, “To-morrow I will unclothe my soul 
to Marian ; if she will forgive I will live a new life 
— humanity shall be glad that I lived!” 

But she might not see that morrow! As she 
turned to re-enter the house, she was seized by 
powerful arms, and a knotted handkerchief thrust 
into her mouth. A giant in strength had her in 
his grasp. 

He carried her to the river bank, with the wild 
incoherent mutterings of an insane man, often 
mentioning his name, and her own, and Mc- 
Kenzie’s. She was dropped to the earth, on the 
grassy bank of the river, as if but a block of 
wood. She groaned and he struck her face brutal- 
ly. “Ye’ll see I’m just as ready to die as you are, 
my angel ! But I wouldn’t go and leave you here, 
my dear— but I will go with you. You know too 
much, my dearie, to leave you here.” During this 
soliloquy he was binding her arms and feet. 
Bertha realized that she was not only in the 
hands of an insane man, but that the demented 
wretch was Bearman. 

“There now; there dear— that is well enough; 


14 . 


212 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


you’ll like to go with me; it’s a long journey 
alone. There; don’t moan so— I will be with you. 
You won’b tell anyone who struck that blow 
where we are going. Nice water ; cool water for 
fevers. There! Don’t cry, dear.” 

With that, he lifted the bound woman in his 
strong arms, and thrust her from him — into the 
river ! 

He laughed— a wild, wierd laugh— and plunged 
into the dark waters— and was seen no more of 
earth. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE EVANGEL OF GRACE. 

When Marian arrived at home that evening, 
about seven o’clock, she addressed two notes to 
friends. 

The first was as follows, and was sent to his 
hotel : 


Mr. Julius Roberts: 

Dear Friend:— I feel it a duty, and a very 
sad and serious one, to write you that misfortune 
has overtaken my father’s estate. My father’s 
interest in Transcontinental stock was of course 


THE EVANGEL OF GRACE. 


213 


sold when it went down to-day. Unfortunate- 
ly our brokers oversold at least 30,000 shares, 
and as nearly as we can now ascertain it will re- 
quire all of our available property to save us from 
financial dishonor. We will be able to pav every 
cent — but thereafter I shall have to support my- 
self. Of course I shall not expect you to renew 
vour former kind and generous offer. I may have 
to ask yon for assistance to give us time to meet 
obligations. Will you kindly send me a note this 
evening*, by messenger? 

Yours, with great respect, 

Marian Knox.” 


“My God! Is that the way of it?” said 
Roberts when he read this. And then — one of his 
castles came tumbling down. Love was buried in 
the ruins. 

The second note caused her more trouble— not 
that she doubted the termination— but lest it 
might cause the young man anxiety : 


“My Dear Friend, 

Mr. McKenzie :— I have something very pain- 
ful to write you. If I err vou must forgive. If I 
do right you must help me by being perfectly free 
yourself. In the great war on Transcon today 
our brokers sold our stock before the decline 
[which was true] and then heavily oversold, with 
the bear clique, to fully 30,000 shares, [which 
was also true.] The result is, with overbearing 
engagements to meet day after tomorrow, .on 
B. F., on Poolville Syndicate and on a heavy 
Chicago bank loss, we are ruined. Everything 
will have to go — and I shall begin life poor. I 
may ask you to help me some. But I wish you to 


214 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

be wholly free, now, from aiiy appearance of .en- 
gagement. The future is your own. I do wish, 
however, that you would write me at once— with- 
out the delay of a moment— and send by messen- 
ger— a few words to let me know that you will re- 
main a friend and adviser. 

Yours, hoping for better days, 

Marian Knox. 


Marian Knox proposed to test the affection 
of her two lovers for the womanhood that bore 
her name— shorn of the glitter of millions of 
money. 

These letters were sent that same evening, to 
their destination. Then Marian thought of rest. 
It was eight o’clock. She was alone, Mr. Jones 
had come to the house with her, two hours before, 
and found Esterella Godiva in the garden. 
Thither went the weary attorney— and both dis- 
appeared in the shrubbery. 

“Poor Bertha,” said Marian, to herself, “she 
is lonesome, weary, discouraged. I suppose she 
loved my father. I should not like to have it so — 
and yet I would forgive her— I know not my own 
mind ! I will try to solve no problem now, how- 
ever, for poor father is nearing the grave! But 
what can Bertha be doing alone in her house? 
Suffering ! I fear it. I will compel her to come to 
me !” She rang the bell. Lulu answered. 

“Lulu, have James get out the phaeton and 
the grey— have him get ready to drive me out ” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

By the time the phaeton was ready it was nine 
o’clock in the evening. She put her foot on the 


THE EVANGEL OF GRACE. 


215 


step to enter when a soft, childish voice addressed 
her. It was Esterella Godiva Roberts, whose 
slender figure arose over the hedge. 

“Miss Marian,” she said, in great trepidation. 
“Wait a moment and hear my story — my 
romance ! Oh, it is delightful, so enchantingly ro- 
mantic ! Isn’t it wonderful ?” 

“But you have not told me, Miss Esterella!” 

“No, I don’t know how to begin. It is a long 
story— and so thrillingly romantic. But 1 must 
tell you.” 

By this time she was leaning over Miss 
Marian, with her mouth close to the ear. She 
whispered in stagey accent 

“Marian— I’m to be married!” 

“Why, Miss Esterella, how nice that is!” 

“Oh, isn’t it— but it is dreadful to think of— so 
much responsibility!” 

“But who is to be the husband?” inquired 
Marian, pretending not to know! 

“Oh, the best man on this earth. There is but 
one man living for me— and he just lives for my 
happiness. It is the great and successful lawyer, 
Mr. Green Jones, of the firm of Lever, McBride & 
Jones.” 

And she rattled on, until Marian at last 
broke away, and gave instructions to the driver. 
They drove on leisurely, in the half-lighted streets, 
a great depression weighing down her spirits, on 
account of the parting words and manner of 
Bertha. 

Marian felt a presentiment that all was not 
right. It grew more and more oppressive, as they 
drew nearer the outskirts of the city ! And then, 


216 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


to add to her anxiety, the driver lost his way and 
it was at least half past ten o’clock when he drew 
up at the front door of the “river house.” 

There were no lights. All was dark and silent. 
Reason told her that Bertha was in bed — and it 
was her duty to return without disturbing her. 
She turned from the door, reached the phaeton, 
and was reseated. But she told James to wait. 
There she sat under the power of an impression of 
evil. She heard a voice— it was not Bertha’s, but 
it came from the river bank, right down from 
where she sat, back of Bertha’s vacant lot — that 
lot between the house and where the wallet had 
been thrown on that awful night. 

She listened intently. It seemed a voice in 
soliloquy, and she imagined she heard sounds of 
satisfaction. “There now; there! That is good; 
now you’re right. That’s well,” etc. The voice 
was bass and gruff. She asked her driver if he un- 
derstood it. 

“No, Miss Marian; it may be a fisherman.” 

“I shall go to the bank and see.” 

“I wouldn’t, Miss Marian, it is too dark.” 

J ust then there seemed to come a faint groan 
— a despairing moan — and not from the talker ! 

“I shall go, James, at least as far as the furth- 
er corner of the house. You hitch the pony, and 
follow me.” 

“But ma’am— Miss Marian — ” 

“Never mind, James,” she said, putting her 
hand on his arm, “Are you brave?” 

“Not very ma’am, but you are! I will come, 
but don’t go far, please.” 


THE EVANGEL OF GRACE. 


217 


Tames said that for Marian’s sake, not for his 
own. 

Marian stepped quietly but quickly down the 
alley -way, close to the water. She leaned against 
the fence, paralyzed for one instant. A man, 
clearly and distinctly to her vision, picked up a 
human being and plunged the body into the river. 
It was the body of a woman ! And with another 
headlong plunge, the man followed. 

She tried to shriek ! The muscles of her 
throat refused to obey her will ! She wildly waved 
her arms m the darkness and rushed to the 
water’s edge! Mariau Knox could not swim. 
She hurried down the shore as that form, within 
two yards of her, floated along, and then rushed 
in herself. 

She was caught by James, who had rapidly 
followed her. He drew her back, plunged into the 
stream, and in a moment had the quiet form of 
Bertha Reynolds lying on the grassy slope! 

Marian had no time even to be astounded. 
She stripped the gag from Bertha’s mouth, and 
the bands from her limbs. The handkerchief gag 
had preserved her consciousness — keeping the 
water almost wholly from her throat. 

In almost as short a time as it takes to write 
it, Bertha was placed in a comfortable position 
on the phaeton floor, with her head in Marian’s 
lap. 

She was soon slumbering in a bed in Marian’s 
home. And in that home she spent the remainder 
of her life. 


218 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


CHAPTER XXVII.] 


THE COUNCIL CHAMBER. 

Israel Hayman had disappeared suddenly 
from his scholastic den— and from the Stock Ex- 
change,— immediately after the great battle over 
McKenzie’s corporation. There was no one to 
question why or how. His room was vacant— not 
a trace of his mystic glyphs appeared, even upon 
the dusty walls. 

No man saw the translation of the cablegram 
cypher which buried him from public view : 


Credit Responsier, Paris. 

“ 789 — 

3024 — 2 — 4723 — 9368 . 

351 .” 

A grizzled old man in ragged apparel, and 
with downcast eyes, took passage on a mean and 
filthy cattle steamer, for Brussels. 

He never spoke, unless of necessity, and then 
in French — and he never smiled. That old out- 
cast was Israel Hayman, under another name. 
The journey was in blind obedience to that cypher 
cablegram. 


In the meanest portion of Rue de Dessalonge, 


THE COUNCIL CHAMBER. 


219 


Paris, was a little miserable old stone house set 
forward several feet into the street, in such a man- 
ner as to cause a slight break in the road wary. It 
had no front entrance, but a dark side passage led 
to a small heavy door which bore evidence of lit- 
tle use — as did the webby windows. 

Within that forbidding building was a long 
passage, and an inner door — and within that 
door, a narrow council chamber, fit for secret 
cabal and mystic revelation. 

At one end was a simple chair, without ros- 
trum or dais, but enfolded and arbored in purple 
velvet. At the gathering of the velvet folds, on 
the wall above, were four characters in gold : 



Over this was a blazing golden sun, with a Greek 
Tau in the centre. Around the room were multi- 
ple forms of Jewish text and Joktanite and Egyp- 
tian glyphs. At either side was another antique 
wooden chair. No other seats were provided in a 
room probably twenty feet long by twelve wide. 
The floor was of stone. There were three heavy 
tables standing across the room, and upon them 
large manuscript books, full of records in French, 
Hebrew and cypher. 


220 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

It is night, and that council room is lighted 
by a dim astral lamp, hanging from the ceiling, 
over the chair draped in purple velvet. In that 
chair sat a man of middle age, in modern dress, of 
powerfully marked Hebrew countenance, and 
stern expression — his appearance strangely con. 
trasting with the ancient forms and garnishments 
about him. 

At his right sat one of the most eminent men 
of modern times— a Prime Minister of one of the 
powerful courts of Europe. 

At his left a secretary, with stenographic 
notes upon a writing board placed on his knees. 

Withal, a most simple court in which to de- 
cide the destinies of empires and the fate of men. 

Before them, standing, stooping, pale and 
haggard, was Israel Hayman. He had heard the 
charge. It was short, precise, and without at- 
tempt at legal form : 

“Israel Hayman, thou hast betrayed us with 
a lack of judgment, and given aid from our re- 
sources to a Gentile.” 

Surely so simple and apparently inoffensive a 
charge as that had not caused a secret agent of 
the Hebrew Domination to tremble before his 
“employers.” Oh, how little we know of the real 
power which, with that race, seeks no expression 
in prideful dress nor sounding words. However., 
the “court” had not been called to try his case 
alone— nor would its termination have been so 
tragical on so simple a charge as thus presented. 

“What have you to say?” asked the Judge. 

“I have no defense,” replied Hayman— now 


the council chamber. 


221 


without the slightest affectation of humility, but 
with folded arms. 

“Do you wish judgment without a word? 
Does fche history of our race bear upon thee so 
lightly?” 

“I will say that, possibly, in some forgotten 
generation, a drop of Gentile blood may have 
stolen into my veins — and softened my feelings for 
humanity. I have discovered many things.” 

“And been the tool of many men!” said the 
Prime Minister. 

“Aye, sire, and of women. I vowed a vow to 
a woman, a woman dark as Egypt’s daughter — 
one who can read the Seer language, and reveal 
mysteries even to thee. She cast the vow npon 
another— I kept my faith with Jehovah.” 

By the canon of the elder Jehorim you could 
not transfer your vow to another,” remarked the 
Judge, 

“I am content without argument,” observed 
the culprit. “Mine eyes have been opened till I 
see the Lion and the Unicorn hold the sceptre of 
the world — and 1 am faithless as to the Godly 
purpose of our awful mission. It is the children 
of Judah oppressing the children of Israel— the 
two tribes over ten. They are our brethren, even 
after the apostasy upon Gerizim! I am content 
to await judgment.” 

“Thou art out of thy mind, thus to wound 
the Semite in his heart of hearts. For this insult 
thou art already dead — and speak as a dead 
man.” The Judge said this, and turned to the 
Prime Minister, who quietly bowed his head in 
confirmation. He continued, “He w r ho would deal 


222 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

less severely with the Samaritan apostate than 
with a Gentile is dead, even though he hath drawn 
breath beneath the sacred girdle of Esha. Thou 
knowest this, thou bold recreant'.” 

To this Israel replied fearlessly, “I know that 
the IVood of David rules the world upon a Samar- 
itan throne— and 1 know that Elisha made pure 
the Samaritan leper. Know ye the Beth-elohem — 
the Temple Stone — the Bethlehem of the Jesus 
birth, and the foothold of the ladder of Jacob! 
Go find the stone — and where thou findest it — 
there the blood of the Davidian Tephi rules the 
world. Thou art in the mist — I have much to re- 
veal to thee.” 

The Judge, the great and secret head of the 
Rothschild credit, and the Prime Minister, 
grasped the arms of their chairs, leaned forward, 
and listened with parting lips. The secretary let 
fall his pen— and shaded his eyes. Israel Hayman 
folded his arms, and shot fiery glances at the 
three. 

“Speak that blasphemy once more, wretch, 
and you’ll never pass these walls alive!” cried the 
Judge, stamping his foot upon the floor; “one 
opportunity hast thou for mercy !” 

“Oh, that I can never have — -too well I know 
that. But what I wonder at now is the revelation 
of thy manner, oh children of leprosy! For now, 
behold, I discover that the truth was known to 
thee— and thy wonder and thy wrath are aroused 
because another hath found out thy treason to 
the race! Behold the Children of Israel, under 
the British Unicorn, and the Semite under the 


THE COUNCIL CHAMBER. 


223 


Judean lion, conspire together to crush the 
world. 

The hand of the Judge was uplifted, as if to 
grasp a handle. Israel saw the motive — and 
quick as lightning thrust forth his hand, and 
cried— 

“Hold, thou false son of a false father! Thou 
art prince of a power which smites God with 
blasphemy— which holds Jewry from Christ as 
embalmed in the great T(h)orian hammer and 
the Sun of God there !— emblazoned on that wall ! 
Thou knowest my span of life. While I live thou 
canst listen in safety. Perchance thou mayst be 
wiser — and my wisdom will do thee no harm. 
Shall I speak— bitter, aye, cursed words?” 

“Yes, thou fool!” replied the Prime Minister. 
“Let thy folly burst the dam of prudence, and 
grind thee in the great millwheel of Gilbonah !” 

“And I shall,” began the Jew, unfolding his 
arms. “I have seen thy power, and as death is 
only fearful to the coward, I shall put my ribs un- 
der the wheel, and cry to God while the chariot of 
the Curse crushes me. I have seen thee wrap thy 
cruel arms around nations, and stifle the cry of 
the pauper under the sod of the potter’s field. 

I have seen thee inaugurate the mighty lep- 
rosy of a bank upon the children of men, that thy 
clutches might enter the arteries of life like 
serpents and drink the blood. 

I have seen your national bank draw unto 
Mammon the homes of five million toilers across 
the sea. 

I have seen thee inaugurate war— terrible, 
bloody and powerful— between brethren— that thy 


224 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


thirsty bond system might throttle effort and de- 
stroy intelligence with poverty. 

I have seen you purchase the newspapers to 
control the thoughts of the adults — and with 
poverty keep the children of twenty-two millions 
of our people out of school. 

I saw you mutilate the treasury note, so that 
you might destroy the faith of people in their 
own banking— and reap countless millions on 
bond issues which only fools would have permit- 
ted. 

I have seen you receive, as gold interest, 
enough tribute upon bonds, from the hand of toil, 
to have redeemed all the paper money in the 
world. 

I have seen you burn up a thousand millions 
of money— treasury notes— for our people— to 
make labor penniless and build bondholders 
splendid palaces. 

I have seen you smite silver money because it 
was the only money not borrowed of thee ! 

I have seen thee combine with the oppressors 
of every land, to rob with money, and destroy 
with credit. 

I have seen thee issue twenty thousand mil- 
lions of false and worthless capital, and with 
trenchant power and no scruple of conscience, 
wring tribute on every dollar of the fraud, from 
toil ! 

I have seen mortgages blistering the hearth- 
stones of nine millions of the twelve millions of 
homes— and a million toilers labor as tenants on 
homesteads once their own. 

I see now every dollar in America borrowed 


THE COUNCIL CHAMBER. 


225 


by six different persons, and draw six interests at 
one time. 

I have seen corruption broadcast— bribery 
stalking through the capitals, and the courts pur- 
chased by your agents. I have seen the proud re- 
public — 

“You apostate reptile?” shrieked the Prime 
Minister. 

“ Apostate! Apostate!” cried the other— 
“Apostate? — when thou hast undertaken to 
wreck the entire hierarchy of theocracy by the 
Wisean movement of Cincinnati, and the rebellion 
of the Israelite ! Oh, thou princely claw of Satan, 
to rip and tear the sacred vestments, and defy the 
Urim! How litttle thou knowest that the Urim 
is found !” 

“Found, you liar?” shouted the Judge. 

“Aye, found— found at Tara — where the Arat 
of the Prophet echoes to the harp of David 
through centuries!” 

“Blasphemer, hush thy wretched lunacy. The 
knowledge of this alone would seal thy death !” 

“Tliiukest thou that I know this not? When 
the leprous union was made by which thou siezed 
the people of the West, across the sea, by the 
throat, did I not know! Did I not know the 
secret of the death of Lincoln? Canst thou let 
one live who dares to defy thee, and fling thy 
crimes into thy face?” No, I die— but another 
and a Gentile knows your secrets!” 

The Prime Minister smiled — and the Judge 
curled his lip in the intensity of his scorn. 

“And yet, thou might well let me live — were I 
to ask it. Not one word of my fearful tale would 


226 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


be believed— and in one day thou could’st sum- 
mon me to the* prison— with a hundred witnesses 
to prove I murdered my own father. Thou hast 
sw T orn nations to ruin, and forsworn the religion 
of Abraham’s God. Do thy worst, and do it 
quickly.” 

“Have you no more blubber to pari with, 
fool?” said the Judge. 

“Yes— I have this to say— that ere thou hast 
placed the corner stone upon the capitol thou 
hast constructed from which to rule the world, 
and enslave the race— thou wilt ride horses to the 
knees in blood— and revolution will spend its fury 
under the shadows of thy deserted palaces! This 
is the prophecy of Thor, embalmed in the 
prophets, and it shall be to thee and the world 
the awful ARMAGEDDON ! It shall be— 

“Enough! Enough! Hush these maniac 
cries,” cried the Judge. “Turn your head to the 
east — quick!” He pointed to the Sun above his 
head— reached for the silver handle hanging above 
— gave one quick, nervous pull— and— 

Israel Hayman’s face blanched white! His 
arms were raised — the floor s:ave way beneath 
him— and in the darkness below he plunged with- 
out a cry. 

The heavy stone plate upon which he stood 
had fallen— and then slowly rose upon unseen un- 
der hinges— and all was still. 

The three men departed — in silence. The out- 
er door was closed. 

From that voiceless vault no human being 
had ever come forth— dead or alive. 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


227 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


THE VOW BEFORE THE COOK. 

Let us take up the thread of our story at the 
home of Marian Knox. 

When Marian returned to the library, from 
the bedroom where she had disrobed Bertha, after 
her terrible experience, and wooed her to sleep, it 
was midnight. 

Imagine her surprise at finding Raphael Mc- 
Kenzie seated on a divan, waiting for her ! 

“Why Raphael,” she cried, “no one told me 
you were here!” 

“No, dear,” he said, “Lulu let me in a half- 
hour ago nearly. I told the child not to let you 
know that I was here until you w T ere through with 
Miss Reynolds.” 

Marian then told the story of Bertha, awaken- 
ing a profound interest in his mind. When 
finished he suddenly changed the subject, and 
said, 

“Now, sweetheart, — 

“It is not time yet,” she said interrupting 
him. 

“Well then, now, my love — there’s no com- 
mand against that word — I have read your note 
about the loss of property. If your ‘ruination,’ of 
which you write me so coolly, has taken the last 
dollar you have a claim to, I am not sorry. I try 
to be sorry, but I can’t!” 

15 


228 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

“How cruel you are, sir!” she answered, rising 
to look at a bundle of clothes lying on the carpet 
in the corner. 

“Because, you see, now, I open my arms like 
this,” he exemplified as he also rose to his feet. 
“And I close them like this;” he added, taking her 
a close prisoner, “and I get more wealth than lies 
in all the earth beside.” 

“And I,” she replied, rosy with smiles, “I greet 
my captor thus — ” and she kissed his lips. Then 
struggling for freedom, she continued, “It is all 
over— in the presence of this sleeping witness,” 
pointing to the bundle of clothes on the floor, it 
was Lulu, poor child, who had finally sung her 
last little song to Raphael, and fallen into dream- 
land. 

Marian wakened her with difficulty. “Lulu, 
Lulu,” she called, “has there a messenger boy 
brought a letter for me tonight?” 

The child yawned, and rubbed her eyes, tried 
to smile and failed, and then reached under her 
bodice and drew forth a missive. 

Marian took it and read aloud : 

“Dear Miss Marian : 

l r our note is very painful to me. I regret 
your misfortunes very much. I shall go to Wash- 
ington to remain this fall. Shall be happy to 
meet you on my return. 

Yours, Very Truly, 
Julius Roberts. 

P. S.— My sister informs me that she will live 
in the city hereafter as Mrs. Greene Jones.” 

“Now,” said Marian, after explanations, and 


THE VOW BEFORE COOK. 


229 


while sitting; by his side, with his arm around her 
waist, “Now, Sir, I am a fraud.” 

“Why?” asked Raphael with a blink in his 
eye. 

“Because,” she remarked, retreating behind 
his shoulder. 

“Because what, love?” 

“Because,” with a vast pucker to her mouth — 
“because, we haven’t lost a penny of our for- 
tune!” 

“Not bankrupted by the Transcon?” 

“No, love ! We made money just as you did !” 

“I’m sorry— I wanted to marry you in calico 
and wooden shoes ! ” 

“And,” she said, “I have proven false to an- 
other. When I was a little girl, I was riding with 
papa and mamma across a bridge, and i struck 
a little ragged lad with the whip. I didn’t mean 
to. It was in play. The whip took his hat off 
and it went into the river. The little fellow 
howled horribly, and jumped up to fight us, I 
guess. Papa stopped the horses, and gave the 
boy a silver dollar !” 

“He did?” said Raphael, breathing a trifle 
short, and with an arm ready to put her neck in 
chancery. 

“Yes, but I cried so hard because I had acted 
so, and I said I was so sorry, that the noble little 
bunch of rags leaped on to the carriage step and 
made me take that dollar. I didn’t want it — but 
he was off before I could refuse. Do you know 
what I did?” 

“No, what?” 

“I had a hole put through the dollar, and 


230 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

wore it for years— it’s in that case there, now,” 
pointing to a little trinket box, “and I vowed, oh 
ever, so solemnly, for years after, before the cook 
and the footman, that if ever that boy became a 
good man I would marry him ! And now I have 
proven false !” 

“Well, I don’t know,” said Raphael, with his 
arms drawing down close to that girl’s shoulders ! 

“Why don’t you know, sir?” 

“Because, sweetheart, I am that little boy!” 

“No, No, — you are not in earnest?” 

“I am.” The arm had reached its destina- 
tion, and if it was very late when she demanded 
its removal, it is no more than could be expected. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE SEWER AND THE SEINE. 

The events forming this story have rapidly 
culminated. Marian Knox and Raphael Mc- 
Kenzie are to be united in marriage. These two 
“children” of Telford Knox, (for so he looked up- 
on both during his later days) followed his earth- 
ly temple to the tomb but a few weeks after the 
great battle upon the stock board. Bertha Reyn- 
olds was a mourner — and from that hour there 
was shrined in her heart a lofty purpose to do 
good. And were her real name given, it would be 


THE SEWER AND THE SEINE. 231 

recognized by thousands of citizens of New York 
as t-lie name of an evangel whose life has been 
precious to the poor and the criminal in the great 
city. 

The wedding of Raphael and Marian was a 
simple affair indeed. With such wealth and posi- 
tion of the bride, and the powerful associations of 
Mr. McKenzie, a gorgeous affair was anticipated. 
But after the joyful preparation, a single evening 
before the consummation, an event transpired 
which saddened their hearts not a little, and 
caused both bride and groom to change the pur- 
poses of their lives. 

On that evening Marian and Raphael sat 
upon the porch, behind those same Virginia 
creepers where Raphael had first told his love. 
The same moon was shining down upon them, 
gleaming between the festoons, and shadow-fleck- 
ing the floor. 

A footstep was heard upon the gravel walk, 
and a man’s form appeared slowly approaching 
the house. It moved as if fearful of being 
observed. And as it drew nearer a man of ex- 
treme old age, from his stooping shoulders and 
unsteady gait, appeared before them and a beam 
of moonlight throwing a sudden flame upon his 
white locks, and snowy moustache, gave to him 
an almost ghastly outline. 

The two young people watched his progress to 
the steps with singular interest. 

“I have seen that face before,’’ remarked 
Raphael. 

“He must be seeking you, then,” returned 
Marian, “for I have never seen it.” 


232 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


The aged man stood within twenty feet of 
them, and looked around as if fearful of detection. 
Raphael addressed him. 

“My dear sir, are you looking for some one?” 

“McKenzie!” cried the old man in quick re- 
turn, but trembling tone. “I know that voice. I 
am, indeed, looking for you — for you and Miss 
Knox and the prophetess— may I see you all?” 

“Yes, father, I will call Bertha — Oh, I know 
him, I know him ! It is ” 

“Sh— hush !” hoarsely whispered the old man. 
“Never, never, let that name pass your lips 
again.” And he drew near, and took their hands. 
McKenzie did not even yet recognize him, and 
turned to Marian. 

“I may not speak his name,” said she, “but it 
surely is one whom we called a ‘power behind the 
throne.’” 

“Isra — ” arose to the lips of Raphael. 

“Again,” cried the old man, with trembling 
hand uplifted, “I must beg of you never, never 
again, to ' ..kthat name. That name is dead. 
When I tell you how it died, you will obey me and 
pity the race. I am no longer a power, but a 
hunted wretch. I am not even a Jew— I am a 
Gentile to the world. Call Miss Reynolds, please, 
I can stay but an hour. Warn her not to men- 
tion my name. You will never see me again, and 
therefore let us use the moments.” 

He was brought to an easy chair upon the 
porch, and Bertha soon had hold of both his thin 
hands, as she gazed into his emaciated face. 

“Children,” said he, I must tell you my story 
—nor do I wait for an invitation. I tell it for 


THE SEWER AND THE SEINE. 


233 


your instruction — and I shall then disappear from 
.your presence forever, adjuring you to heed my 
instruction well.” 

Israel Hayman related all that has been given 
in the preceding chapter ; and continued thus : 

“At the instant of that dreadful fall 1 knew 
the moment of death had come. And in that mo- 
ment I felt thankful that my vow to Jehovah had 
been kept. I fell, I should judge, about fifteen or 
twenty feet, though it is all, 'guess-work’— and 
during that instant the smell of the grave sick- 
ened me. 

“But God never deserts one of my race if we 
remain faithful to Him — and to be faithful to Him 
we must be faithful to our fellow-men. I had kept 
the vow — he did not desert me. 

“1 struck the floor; it was undoubtedly stone. 
You can imagine my surprise, and, for a moment, 
increased horror, to find the floor crush beneath 
my sudden weight, a great crash of bricks or 
masons follow, and mvself plunged downward, 
feet first, into still another dark and noisome 
vault!” 

“Oh horrible!,” cried Bertha, drawing her 
chair close to the old man, and placing her hand 
on his shoulder. 

“Yes, down I went, possibly ten feet below — 
and to my unutterable amazement, found myself 
standing in running water above mv knees. In a 
flash, instantly, I knew' where I was. The Coun- 
cil Chamber above was a building more than two 
centuries old. Years and years ago the Dessa- 
longe sewer had been built, starting from a point 
under Monte Careno, blocks away. It had run 


234 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


under the Council building, but so far beneath it 
that the vault, which was unknown to all the 
world, myself included, was untouched. But the 
upper arch of the sewer was within a few inches of 
the floor-flagging of the vault. Both had grown 
old and crumbling— and the force of mv fall broke 
through the bricks. 

I stood in the darkness, in a Pans sewer. I 
thought at once of Hugo’s writings, and began to 
collect my thoughts. The water was not very 
cold— nor was the air bad— not so bad as ex- 
pected. I could not touch the sides with my 
hands outstretched, but the bottom was curved, 
indicating a cylinder in form.” 

The water was running quite rapidly, and I 
imagined that there was a sound of waterfall. 
Then came the thought that the Biver Seine was 
not more than forty or fifty rods beyond— about 
two of our blocks. So I began to move down 
with the stream, into still greater darkness and 
uncertainty.” 

“Oh, how terrible!” cried Marian— “and all 
that for us.” 

“And for me,” said Bertha. 

“I should judge that it was all for me,” added 
Raphael. 

“I hoped to come to a point where I could see 
the light of an opening into the Seine,” continued 
Israel, “but I was not so anxious but that a 
thought of exultation came — in that the Judge 
and the Austrian and the Secretary, all were 
thus far foiled in their plan of destruction. The 
sound of the waterfall became more distinct — but, 
horrors, the water became deeper, and the strong 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


235 


breath from the side warned me that other cylin- 
ders were pouring in their additional streams. 
And then, suddenly, without warning, I was 
thrown off my feet, plunged into a boiling whirl- 
pool of waters — and lost all consciousness in the 
terrible gasping for breath.’ ’ 

“Awful!” cried the women. 

“The remainder of my experience in the water I 
can only gather from what occurred after my re- 
turn to consciousness. It seems that the sewer 
took a sudden pitch down the bank to the 
masonry at the river’s edge— and down this in- 
cline 1 was hurled with a great swirl and gullup of 
the heartless torrent. My last thought was, 
‘This is death.’ 

“It was but a moment after, probably, when 
my body was vomited forth into the river. Even 
if I had retained consciousness during the moment 
of that frightful voyage, I could not have sur- 
vived, for I could not swim. But a peculiar fate 
attended me. As you are doubtless aware, there 
is a class "of men who prowl the river, nights, to 
gather in the corpses of the ‘floaters,’ suicides, the 
murdered, etc., in the great European cities. The 
very moment of my projection into the river, a 
boat was passing the bubbling exit of the old sew- 
er. Their search-light disclosed my face. In an 
instant they had me aboard, and doubtless, with 
great joy, rowed away to the dismal water-office 
where the prosector of the medical institutes pur- 
chased these ‘cadavers,’ injected them with arsen- 
ite of soda, and threw them into the pickling vat. 

“These fishers of dead men dragged my uncon- 
scious body up the dark, wet, filthy steps, and 


236 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 

flung it on the floor, and began a horrible dicker- 
ing over the price to be paid them. I had been in 
the water probably less than five minutes, and 
the successive shocks, up the steps, undoubtedly 
brought me io consciousness. I was not fully 
aware of the situation until I heard the gruff con- 
clusion : 

“ ‘All right — tumble him into the vat! ’ 

“Two of the ruffians then seized me, one at the 
head and one at the feet. I summoned all my 
senses and groaned. 

“ ‘He’s alive, ’ whispered one of the men. 

“‘Kill him quick, before the prosector,’ (mean- 
ing the purchaser,) ‘gets on to it, or he’ll refuse 
the price.’ 

“At this terrible moment— before I could sum- 
mon strength to cry, one of the men lifted an 
enormous foot, clothed with a heavy boot, to 
kick the life entirely out of me. In a tenth of a 
second the flickering lamp would have witnessed a 
murder for no other purpose than to make a 
corpse out of a living man. 

But fate had more life in store. As the heavy 
brute lifted one foot the added weight upon the 
other broke the unnailed board of the loose floor- 
ing, and his leg went through as the wretch fell 
over with an oath. 

“Then I found my voice— and used it. The 
prosector was fearfully frightened, but stood be^ 
tween me and the villains, and compelled them to 
let me up. I waited until the boatmen left, and 
as soon as strong enough, staggered to the street 
just as the sky was beginning to show the rosy 
light of breaking day. 


THE SEWER AND THE SEINE. 


237 


“I can draw the story to a close. With many 
trials and sufferings, T at last reached the coast, 
and even secured a passage. Of course I adopt 
another name. Nor do I dare to mingle with the 
Hebrews. I know that I am an outcast that al- 
most fears to live.’’ 

With this, the old man stopped short— and 
seemed wearied. 

“What can we do for vou, our good friend?” 
asked Raphael. “Your wish is a command.” 

“You can do nothing for me. I shall disap- 
pear from among men. 1 have money. But I 
wish to leave parting instruction for you. You 
may act upon it or not, as you think best.” 

“We want your instruction,” said Raphael, 
“but we do not want you to go away.” 

“My children,” said the Jew, “in behalf of this 
child here,” laying his hand upon Bertha, “I will 
tell you the secret of my life and race. It is our 
purpose to hold dominion over the world. He 
who owns labor in slavery, must care for the 
slave, and every white man might own a slave. 
But the man who can control the income of labor 
will control the labor without having to care for 
the laborer — and thus there will be a caste in so- 
ciety. 

“This control can only be secured by control 
of the money. For two hundred years we have 
designed to control the money of the world. We 
are now succeeding. Every dollar of money which 
is not our credit, borrowed of us, must be de- 
stroyed— except gold— and there is not enough 
gold to make even our bank reserves. 


238 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


“The great Hebrew Dominion is today trium- 
phant in this respect.” 

“Are all Jews in this secret?” asked McKenzie. 

“Oh no— no, no ! Only the few who are power- 
ful bankers— and the Rothschilds, whose agent I 
was. But other bankers are now in the scheme — 
and pledged to the work. They are determined to 
break down this republic— and are so doing. 
They own the press. They have the intellect and 
culture. They have secret agents in every city. 1 
come to you, even in peril of my life, and ask you 
to arouse your citizens, and arouse the world.” 

“But what remedy is there?” cried Marian. 

“There is but one. Let the people create their 
own money, and let it be issued without being 
borrowed as a debt to a bank. And let it be se- 
cured upon the only ‘real’ property on earth — land. 
Study this matter out — I must go.” 

“Stay,” cried Bertha, and the others. 

“Nay, children, I must go at once. You have 
millions. You nave power. If you wish to save 
the race, you can publish this to the world. If 
not, let it pass.” 

The old man departed— aud forever. 


Before going to the altar, that very evening, 
as the moon shone upon them, these three pledged 
their lives to the enlightenment of the nation on 
the overshadowing danger to a great people who 
love their republic. The world knows the subse- 
quent history of Raphael McKenzie — and the 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 289 


toilers of New York will never forget the Million- 
aire Greenbacker. 


A few years after, Mrs. Raphael McKenzie sat 
by the window, looking out upon the lawn as her 
husband entered the door. Her hand was upon 
her son’s head, radiant with flaxen curls, curtain- 
ing a fair smooth brow, and bright blue eyes. She 
had told the boy the story of Havman. 

“Husband,” she said, as Raphael entered, “do 
you suppose Israel is dead— we have never heard 
from him?” 

“I think not,” he replied evasively. 

“If so, I trust the flowers upon his grave make 
death brighter than his life.” 

“We may hear from him again,” said Ra- 
phael, slowly, “BEFORE THESE MIGHTY 
QUESTIONS ARE SETTLED which will decide 
the destiny of Humanity.” 


240 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


FEARFUL DENUNCIATION 

OF THE 

NEW YORK CITY BANKERS. 


SEN. DANIEL VOORHEIS hails from the State of 
Indiana. He has been in public life for thirty years. He 
has been a master-spirit of democracy, and until the 
great conflict over silver in congress, in 1893, an ardent 
foe to the gold-hierarchy. In that conflict he united 
with the great British gold interest, and became their 
leader in the senate, as against the people. 

In his leadership he was not sufficiently overbearing 
and tyrannical, and hesitated before applying “cloture 1 ’ 
—that is, closing debate to force a vote. The servile 
New Yprk press spleened upon Sen. Yoorheis in their 
domineering manner. For an hour the grey-headed old 
! Roman forgot that he stood perjured before the people, 
and was the purchased champion of Gold Dominion. He 
turned upon his masters like a tiger defending his mate 
— with a fiery invective never equaled in the English lan- 
guage. This assault upon the traitorous enemies of the 
Republic would not be published in this volume but for 
the following fact : It is uttered by their own leader, 
with whom they immediatelv thereafter made their 
peace : 

Washington, D. C., Sept. 19, 1893.— “My full and 
complete opinion,” said Senator Yoorheis, “of that com- 
bine of impertinent robbers and thieves, the banks of 
New York, it would not be politic to print. You could 
not get the telegraph company to handle the message. 
My views of the New York banks and their methods and 
attitudes are that they add insolence to robbery and 
slanderous lying to highwayism. 

I have been in congress thirty-two years. Call it 


THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 241 

success or what you please, its corner-stone, at least, was 
what is my present opinion of these New York banks. I 
have ever found them plundering, and stealing the goods 
and hopes of the people like so many cattle-lifting cat- 
erans. There is not an honest hair in all their heads, 
not a broad or patriotic motive in all their bosoms. 

They are narrow, selfish, utterly mean and dishonest. 
No honest man takes his eyes off them for a moment ; 
They would pick his pocket if he did. 

If you turn your back they use the assassin’s knife 
upon you like so many lurking, skulking, cowardly Cors- 
icans of money. Go to your bibles and read what the 
Savior said of the New York banks and every member of 
their tribe. He described them as whited sepulchres 
filled with dead men’s bones, as the robber of the widow 
and the devourer of the orphan, as willing to barter God 
for money, or negotiate a mortgage on their hopes of 
heaven — allow a foreclosure, and *tay away from the 
sale. 

In the eagerness of their sharkish greed they aban- 
don honor, and right, and justice, and decency, and fill 
and gorge their bellies on the best hopes of a world, 
they would make a boiled dinner of the brightest pros- 
pects of mankind.” 

To the above remarkable statement we will add three 
distinct facts, from a multitude of “evidences 

First. — In the great financial crash of 1893 all the 
banks of New York openly and purposely defied the law 
regarding reserves. When the matter was brought be- 
fore congress an investigation was emphatically refused, 
the fact being admitted by all. 

Second. — O ver 100 members of congress hold their 
seats in defiance of law, being officials in national banks 
— thus legislating in their own business. An investiga- 
tion was demanded, in the senate, and it was flouted at 
and rejected. 

Third.— Whitelaw Reid, the late candidate for the 
Vice Presidency on the republican ticket, declared in the 
New York Tribune that: “The time is near at hand 
when the banks will feel called upon to act strongly. 


242 THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE. 


Meanwhile a very good thing has been done. The ma- 
chinery is furnished by which, in an emergency, the fi- 
nancial corporations of the east can act on a single day’s 
notice with such power that no act of congress can over- 
come or resist their decision.” 

That Levi P. Morton, recently Vice President of the 
United States, was at the same time, and is now, a Brit- 
ish banker, of Hebrew cult; and he has been charged 
for years with having been the publisher of the “Imper- 
ialist.” This was a journal established in New York City 
by capitalists, to advocate a change of this republic into 
an empire. 


THE END. 






























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